A Book By Its Cover
by mossley
Summary: Flint's bluster never impressed Lady Jaye, so how did they end up together? A little bit of everything – action, adventure, angst, humor, romance. Marvel Comics-based, Flint/Lady Jaye and some Scarlett/Snake Eyes. Finished!
1. Chapter 1

**A Book By Its Cover  
Summary:** Flint's bluster never impressed Lady Jaye, so how did they end up together? A little bit of everything – action, adventure, angst, humor, romance. Marvel Comics-based, F/LJ and some S/SE.  
**A/N:** Honestly, this originally started as a little scene in the upcoming story, "_Duplicity_", but it grew too long. Being a truly demented plot bunny, it expanded into something of a back-story for Lady Jaye and how she and Flint became an item. Thanks to TiamatV for the beta - any mistakes are mine alone.

**A/N II:** This is part of a three-genre "It Came From the 80's Challenge" that I was foolish enough to take. Don't ask. The other stories from the challenge will be up later.  
**Rating:** A nice safe PG-13 for a bit of language, because, really, where would there be room for smut in this story?  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except a pair of cats, and they'll argue about who really owns whom.

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**Chapter 1**

As a child, Alison Hart-Burnett's lessons in decorum began at an early age, with her parents and grandparents undertaking the task of teaching the boisterous girl the proper behavior befitting the affluent world of East Coast old-money families.

"Never judge a book by its cover," was one of their most common sayings, insisting that she avoid rushing to judgment based on appearances or initial impressions. A truly gracious woman treated everyone with respect and manners, regardless of the other person's status. Considering a social inferior as a true inferior was an unbecoming attitude befitting the nouveau riche and not to be tolerated in a Hart-Burnett.

Young Alison took the lesson to heart, although not quite in the way her family meant. From the point-of-view of the adventurous six-year-old, the "other half" – to use one of her grandmother's euphemisms – had lots more fun, and she preferred to spend her time with them rather than in the fussy activities of her peers.

So whenever her parents needed to find her, they'd start with the garage to see if she was grilling the chauffeur on why a car worked; moved to the kitchen to see if she was singing Portuguese shanties with the housekeeper; and finally started calling the neighbors to see if she'd followed the gardeners again, pestering them to teach her more Spanish.

And when she showed up late to meals or dirty to tea, her family would resort to gently berating her on how she "never had a second chance to make a first impression." After she confronted them on the contradictory idioms, they sighed and declared she'd never learn to act like a lady.

The experience left her confused, but she loved her family, so she learned to do exactly what they wanted – act. In public, she was the model of a well-behaved society daughter: polite, friendly and with a carefully wielded wit. Privately, she mastered escaping the watchful eyes of her family to surreptitiously explore the less-refined aspects of summers on Martha's Vineyard and life outside of Beacon Hill.

Her parents grudgingly accepted the compromise, knowing their daughter was never going to be satisfied with a sedentary lifestyle. To channel her physical energy, they signed her up for lessons in tennis, swimming and sailing. Recognizing her abilities with languages and acting at an early age, they hired private tutors to hone her already sharp intellect. And when the extent of her temper became apparent, her parents took refuge in the fact that Alison was a good child at heart, with a strongly developed sense of morality who cared deeply for the people she allowed close.

Over the years, she came to appreciate the advantages her family's wealth provided, while realizing that it also ostracized her in some circles. Unconsciously, she mimicked the mannerisms of whatever crowd she was in, trying not to stand out. By the time she finished graduate school, she'd perfected the ability to adapt; she fit in with the East Coast yacht club set as easily as she did a rundown bar in Dublin.

For her part, these experiences taught her several lessons, most importantly that people were who they were, no matter the face they presented to the world. As her skills in putting on a performance improved, so did her ability to recognize it in others. What people said wasn't as important as what they did. She wasn't one to fall for whatever delusions people wanted to believe or promote about themselves.

In her mind, you might not be able to judge a book by its cover, but she decided the first few pages were usually enough to give you a pretty accurate clue.

Status wasn't a factor in this, either. The well-heeled were often just heels with money; for many of them, "acting properly" was something they did badly. Despite their superior airs, they were too wrapped up in their hedonistic lifestyles to see the world for what it really was, and they relied on their wealth and connections to avoid the consequences of their own mistakes.

And after she had a close call with the drunkard son of an influential political family – an encounter she knew would never be dealt with – the hypocrisy became too much for her to bear. Angry, and more than a little frightened, she did the last thing anyone expected and enlisted in the army.

Her parents took the news in stunned silence, not knowing the full extent of what had happened to prompt her reaction. Their dinner forgotten, they exchanged confused looks until, after an uncomfortable length of time, her mother finally asked when she left for basic training and promised to arrange for a family outing before then.

"It could have been worse," her father said after she left the dining room, and Alison paused out of sight in the hallway to gauge their reaction.

"How?" her mother countered.

There was a very long pause before he answered, "She's not doing pornography?"

Her mother laughed amusedly at that. "We could have told people she was acting again. This? Why is she doing something so, so dangerous?"

Alison felt a pang of guilt, but she knew telling her parents the truth about their friends' son would scare them more.

"Don't worry," her father said calmly. "With her linguistic degrees, she's going to end up translating documents for military intelligence. She'll be in a nice, safe desk job for the next four years."

"Well, I suppose it's a good background if she wants to work with the State Department or the one of the intelligence agencies later."

"True. Besides, she looks good in green," he added with a chuckle.

"That's _so_ reassuring," her mother laughed back.

Her father's prediction seemed to be accurate, as she was immediately sent to intelligence school after completing her basic training. For a while, she wondered if her parents had called in some favors, but that idea faded as the rest of her training became more battle-oriented, being one of the few women allowed into some of the more advanced schools. By the time General "Hawk" Abernathy approached her to join the elite anti-terrorism team, G.I. Joe, she knew she'd made it on her own talents.

Now known as Lady Jaye – she never learned who bestowed _that _on her – she shone in her new role as a covert operations specialist, using her talents in acting and languages to go undercover across the world. The job was harsh, though, but she found herself flourishing under the challenges. For the first time, she was in a position where her mental, physical and psychological limits were tested, and it was a thrill.

And if their base was essentially a cramped hole in the ground under a motor pool, at least it was in New York City. Manhattan was a short distance from their Staten Island headquarters, and she wasn't the only one on the team who enjoyed escaping into the city for entertainment, shopping or good food when duties permitted.

Not that everything went well. More than a few of the males on the team rolled their eyes at the idea of her keeping up with them, despite the presence of two women already on the team. The icy and condescending looks she mastered kept the resident misogynists at bay, and she quickly proved her worth to most of the others.

Luckily for her, her first meeting with Scarlett, the team's counter-intelligence expert, didn't end in a real fight. Scarlett had had a bad day, and reacted angrily to Lady Jaye and Ripcord's unexpected presence in the secret Pit. Jaye hadn't backed down, taunting the redhead that she was being replaced.

Both of them were professionals, though, and realizing the need to work together – and share a barracks that was marginally bigger than Jaye's closet back home – they buried their differences. They were also both honest enough to admit the other was skilled, even if they seldom worked together at first.

Their first spark of friendship started over Snake Eyes.

Lady Jaye had heard the story of how he'd been horribly scarred and his vocal cords damaged saving Scarlett's life. It hadn't dawned on her that he communicated in sign language until she saw the pair having a silent conversation as he escorted the redhead to the women's barracks.

"Figures ASL was the one language I could never pick up," she said after the mute commando-cum-ninja left.

"Just one?" There was a definite hint of challenge in Scarlett's tone.

"How many languages do you speak?" Cover Girl asked, not in the mood for one of their verbal sparring matches. Personally, she got along with both of them but recognized why their tempers clashed, and she valued her health too much to point out the obvious to them.

"Fluently? Eight."

"And not fluently?" Scarlett asked in milder manner.

"Well enough to have a semi-intelligent conversation – another six. Basic phrases, like 'Where's the American Embassy?' or 'I don't eat dog.' – about fifteen others, if you include dialects."

"You'll have to teach me some of those. And if you're stuck overseas with Shipwreck, do not _ever_ let him pick where you go to eat," Cover Girl warned firmly as she headed for the shower.

"I thought you said you can't sign," Scarlett said as Lady Jaye sat on her bunk and began moving her hands hesitantly through the alphabet.

"I can't. I had to learn it for a graduate course in non-verbal communication, but I never got the hang of it. I only know the basics."

"That's more than most people know. You're doing fine. Here, we worked out some signs of our own. This is 'Destro'…"

"You use 'Metal Face' for him?"

"You do know this," Scarlett said encouragingly as she sat near Jaye on the bunk and started coaching her on their frequently used signs. That continued through the rest of the evening, and they were having a refresher course the next morning as they waited outside the gym for PT.

"She doesn't know sign language," Scarlett told Snake Eyes in a sarcastic but friendly voice as he approached them. He cocked his head, and Jaye felt him staring intently at her through his visor. She understood then why he unnerved so many of the team; even without being able to see his face, it seemed like he was looking right into her mind. After a bit, he pulled a pen and pad of paper from a pocket and passed her a note.

"You randomly wiggle your fingers in a very coherent manner."

For a moment, she just stared at him, finally laughing heartily as she realized the team's mystery man, a deadly fighter feared by anyone who crossed him, had a sense of humor. Judging from the reaction of those around them, it wasn't a well-known fact.

The three of them started spending more time together after that, initially to help her learn more sign language. She never picked up enough to satisfy herself, but Snake Eyes didn't hesitate to approach her if he needed someone to translate. Later, they hung out as the martial artists offered hints to help her in hand-to-hand combat, both of them vexed by her natural inclination to throw a roundhouse punch. Eventually, they occasionally spent free time together because they got along.

Jaye knew she'd never really understand Snake Eyes completely – she often suspected Scarlett felt the same way – but even the little knowledge she had far exceeded what most people ever learned. Still, she felt honored to be included in the club of those who he let get remotely close. And a definite benefit was the automatic rise in her status among the team; anyone Snake Eyes called a friend was someone to be reckoned with. It also caused an immediate reduction in the number of unwanted sexual advances directed her way.

Then Flint showed up.

Watching him strut across the training field that first day, she vaguely noted he was a strikingly handsome man, even if not her usual type. But the first words out of his mouth turned her off, as she had no patience with braggarts, always trying to over-inflate their self-importance with tales they couldn't back up.

Roadblock tried to warn her, to let her know the brash and temperamental warrant officer wasn't someone to dismiss offhand, but everything about him rubbed her the wrong way. It hadn't helped his cause when later that same day he made a pass at her, practically presenting himself as God's gift to women. He then had the nerve to look hurt when she swore at him in Afghani; it wasn't even like he had a clue what she had called him.

To her relief, she went to train some new recruits after that meeting, so she didn't have to deal with his arrogance firsthand again for a short time. Once back at the Pit, Flint came up to greet her and again made a pass, using some of the corniest lines she'd ever heard. Unable to help herself, she laughed at him, holding her sides as she tried to contain her reaction.

He walked off, rubbing the back of his head in confusion, and she had felt a tiny bit of sorrow when pain flashed briefly through his eyes. She hadn't meant to insult him, and she wasn't cruel, but the guy was completely clueless. His constant self-promotion irked her in ways she never imagined possible, and she'd grown up surrounded by professional assholes.

To make things worse, everything Flint bragged about was true. At some level, she knew he had to have some talents to make it on the team, but she was surprised by both the degree and variety he possessed. He was good at what he did, and she was too honest to deny it. Not that she'd ever stroke his over-inflated ego by admitting it to him, but she respected his abilities.

Disgustingly, he also seemed to recognize this fact, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, and it only encouraged his advances.

It should have been easy to hate him – except it wasn't. As if following some cosmic karmic law, his obvious flaws seemed necessary to balance his numerous good qualities. He was the model of military professionalism in the field, he had a quick wit, treated his friends well, always placed the safety of others ahead of his own, and he was willing to give a hand to anyone who needed it.

And as much as he flaunted his own abilities, he was also quick to recognize gifts in others, a trait that nearly earned him some respect from Lady Jaye.

It was soon after he'd joined the team, and he was in the gym with the other newer recruits getting ready for a refresher course in hand-to-hand combat. Flint had moved into her line of sight, taken his shirt off and started a "warm-up" that involved him flexing his muscles a lot. He then started talking loudly enough for her to hear, telling Stalker how good he was in a fight.

"You're right. He is a damn prancing peacock on parade," Scarlett murmured quietly to her.

Lady Jaye grinned as she realized Flint's bravado rubbed her friend the wrong way, too. "Have fun with him out there."

The redhead smiled innocently as she walked to the mat. "I always do."

When confronted with Scarlett, the burly new guys inevitably laughed at the idea of being taught hand-to-hand combat by the petite redhead with the sweet Southern voice. It never occurred to any of them that there was a reason why training members of the military's elite fell to her. None of them ever considered that maybe she had been raised in a family of martial arts instructors and had more black belts than a bad Hong Kong movie. No, the guys always treated it like a joke, at least until they were in yelping in pain as she essentially used them to mop the floor.

If nothing else, it provided entertainment for the older team members, and those first lessons were always well-attended. Jaye made sure to get a front row view of Flint's encounter. It wasn't that she wanted to see him hurt, but if there was ever a person who needed lessons in humility, it was their egocentric warrant officer.

The team got their first surprise almost immediately. Unlike prior participants, Flint didn't make a half-hearted swipe at Scarlett; he attacked furiously. His punches were forceful and fast, and when she tossed him, he rolled up and charged her again.

Lady Jaye watched intently. She wasn't worried about Scarlett, although several people turned to watch Snake Eyes' reaction to the attack. Flint was a brawler, lacking the finesse of a martial artist, but it was soon obvious there weren't many people on the team who'd be able to stand up to him in a fight.

The second surprise came when Flint blocked one of Scarlett's kicks, twisting her leg and forcing her down. She tumbled gracefully with the motion, always in control of the situation, but it was rare for her to land on the mat. That caused another round of people snapping their heads to Snake Eyes, as if he'd ever insult her by intervening. Catching his glance, Jaye half-smirked and raised an eyebrow when he slyly signed, "If I step in, she'll come after _me_."

Once they realized they were getting a full-out sparring match, a lot of the guys started cheering him on, hoping for some sort of payback for their own embarrassing defeats. To his credit, Flint didn't let his audience distract him, concentrating on getting through Scarlett's defenses and trying to block her counterattacks.

Lady Jaye soon realized he was trying different tactics, testing Scarlett's defenses to find her strengths, and then he modified his approach to try to exploit her weaker areas. Not that he was having a lot of luck; for all his determination and power, she had far more skill in hand-to-hand fighting and was definitely fairing better. He didn't let that faze him, refusing to give up.

When one of his punches connected with her shoulder, the guys let out a collective cheer, only to change it into a sympathetic moan. Scarlett had allowed him to land the blow in exchange for getting into a better position, and her kick caught him in the stomach hard enough to force the air out of his lungs. She finished him off with a toss that landed him on his back with a slam that echoed painfully throughout the gym.

The next two surprises came rapidly. First, Scarlett had actually broken a sweat, and she wiped her brow while giving Flint a look that almost reached respect. Surprise number four was that he actually laughed as he propped himself on his elbows.

"Damn, Red. Duke and Roadblock told me you were good, but they didn't do you justice," he got out between pants.

The unexpected compliment momentarily flustered Scarlett, but she recovered quickly and moved to offer him a hand up. "Well, Snake Eyes is the real master."

"He's better than you? I'm glad you guys are on our side," he said, flashing her one of his crooked grins.

Scarlett rolled her eyes as she faced Lady Jaye before pointing to the next recruit. His audible gulp prompted a round of good-natured laughs, and she reassured him that he didn't have to be as physical as Flint had been.

The warrant officer was taking his own share of ribbing, but he grinned as others slapped his back for actually lasting more than a few seconds. Catching Lady Jaye's eye, he gave her a small nod, which she returned graciously.

As much as it pained her, she had to admit she was impressed, but not in the way he probably thought. Sure, he was a good fighter, but he'd taken the assessment of Scarlett's skills seriously. He hadn't assumed he had to pull his punches with her because she was a woman, and he readily acknowledged her superior abilities. It showed a level of maturity that she hadn't believed the testosterone-addled lout possessed, and she was getting ready to concede the point to him.

Then he opened his mouth.

"You have any black belts I should know about?" he asked softly, stepping into her personal space and bending his head close to hers.

"No," she said sharply, trying to step back, but the crowd was too dense.

"I have plenty of moves I'd love to show you. I guarantee that you'll love them, too. Double your refund if you're not."

She sighed loudly before glaring at him. "Do you think up these idiotic lines in advance hoping you'll have a chance of using them?"

"Hey, it's all on the spot. Call it a gift of inspiration."

"Inspiration? God, I hope you aren't waiting for a call from Hallmark. I don't think they have a cheesy and insipid line of cards for the brain dead."

And it happened again – the impression that there was a fleeting look of hurt that almost made her feel sorry for him. Swearing under her breath, she left and headed to the surface to get some fresh air before returning to her reports.

Scarlett and Snake Eyes found her at lunchtime, and both of them commented positively on how Flint had taken the lesson seriously, even if he lacked style. She must have scowled, because they turned to each other for a second before fixing her with matching stares. Deciding that talking to someone might help, she explained her run-ins with Flint and her growing frustration on how to deal with him.

"I don't know what's worse: that he can't take a hint, or that he's always going on about how he's God's gift to the universe," she snarled. "No, it's his arrogance. Definitely his arrogance. What I don't get is why. Most people who go on like that do it because they're insecure."

"And why can't that be true in his case?" Snake Eyes signed.

Lady Jaye just blinked in shock. Was it that simple? Was all his posturing an act? She tried to think what could have happened to him that left him with such an overwhelming need to tout himself.

It was just too hard to accept. Flint's abilities were so obvious even without his own self-promotion. There was no way to doubt his skills – with the exception of modesty, a trait to which he was apparently deathly allergic.

"What has he got to be insecure about?" she asked honestly, narrowing her eyes when Scarlett gave her a wicked grin. "Don't even go there. I can admit that he has talents and still want to push him out of an airplane without a parachute."

"Whatever you say," she said, winking as she and Snake Eyes left to eat in private.

As she got ready for bed that night, she again considered Snakes' question, but she still couldn't understand what would make Flint doubtful. He exuded confidence, but it was grounded in a very accurate understanding of his own abilities. If he said he'd be able to do something, the odds were he could and do it well.

It was a fact she'd been forced to admit through experience. Their respective positions on the team meant they often worked together. As the Joe's primary tactician, he developed the plans to deal with various problems the team tackled, and she supplied the intelligence analysis to guide him.

And for all their personal confrontations, they worked well together, primarily because he stopped trying to get in her pants long enough to get the job done. He respected her abilities, always listening to her suggestions seriously and increasingly asking her opinions. As long as he focused on work, he was tolerable – not quite enjoyable, but pretty close.

Flint was also one of the most intelligent people she'd ever met, and her own education had put her in some rarified company. Watching him work through a tactical problem, trying out possible scenarios to find the one most likely to succeed with the lowest risk to the team, was amazing.

The man's brain was incredible. If it was the organ he thought with when around her, she'd probably actually like him.

Unfortunately, Lady Jaye rapidly reached the conclusion that he saw her as something to conquer, a sexual trophy to brag about. He might respect her professionally, but that was as far as it went. For her part, she saw him as nothing more than an annoying, albeit very intelligent, self-centered lecher.

Her views took a sudden shift the day Cobra invaded the Pit.

_TBC _


	2. Chapter 2

**A Book By Its Cover  
Summary: **Flint's bluster never impressed Lady Jaye, so how did they end up together? A little bit of everything – action, adventure, angst, humor, romance. Marvel Comics-based, F/LJ and some S/SE.**  
A/N:** Honestly, this originally started as a little scene in the upcoming story, "_Duplicity_", but it grew too long. Being a truly demented plot bunny, it expanded into something of a back-story for Lady Jaye and how she and Flint became an item.

**A/N II:** This is part of a three-genre "It Came From the 80's Challenge" that I was foolish enough to take. Don't ask. The other stories from the challenge will be up later.**  
Rating:** A nice safe PG-13 for a bit of language, because, really, where would there be room for smut in this story?**  
Disclaimer:** I own nothing except a pair of cats, and they'll argue about who really owns whom.

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**Chapter 2**

Lady Jaye had gone for a walk around Fort Wadsworth to clear her head, worried about the possibility that the team was going to be disbanded. After all they had endured, all the good they had accomplished, the honchos were considering ending G.I. Joe because of political interference. Cobra had infiltrated and occupied an American town, and now the politicians were furious because they had driven them out.

The stupidity of it troubled her on several levels, especially the rather obvious fact that Cobra wasn't just going to go away. They had managed to inflict enough damage even while the Joes were trying to shut them down, and she didn't want to think about what they'd be able to do with no one standing against them.

There was a personal aspect to it as well. When she had first stepped into that recruiting office years ago, she hadn't considered making the military a career; it had been the right thing for her at the time. But her stint with the Joes had changed her, given her a purpose. Not that she'd ever been adrift before, but what they did mattered. They made a positive difference in the world in ways not easily found elsewhere.

If joining the army had surprised her family and friends, her re-enlistment had left them flabbergasted. They didn't understand what drove her; they couldn't. Even if she could tell them about her work, she wasn't sure they'd comprehend her motives. In many ways, her old friends were too insular, too protected from the realities of life outside of the privileged circles in which they traveled. To them, it was the job of "other people" to provide protection, never once considering it was an obligation that they shared as well.

And it was a responsibility Jaye felt keenly. She had the skills, training and abilities to take on Cobra, and the thought of being sidelined infuriated her. As much as she missed the comforts of her old life, enduring weeks in a bug-infested jungle, roasting in a godforsaken desert or squatting in a Third-World market were satisfying if they helped rid the world of cold-blooded terrorists.

The only other people who really understood were the other team members, and now there was the very real possibility of them all being split up.

She was considering what their futures held when she heard the sounds of someone approaching. Always cautious, she'd turned and swore when she saw the beret-clad worm jogging towards her. Letting out an aggrieved sigh, Lady Jaye turned around and started walking away; she wasn't in the mood to deal with his antics right now. A committee was deciding their fates at that moment, and all he was interested in was sex.

At some level, she supposed it was flattering. Tenacity was a trait she usually admired in people, but in Flint, it was an irritant. Frowning, she wondered why that was. He got under her skin, but she'd certainly known much worse men.

Growing up, she'd been exposed to any number of creeps. There were the ones who immediately classified her as a "rich bitch" or "ice queen", treating her with automatic contempt. There'd been the social climbers, showering her with false praise and seeing her as nothing but an object, a steppingstone for their own careers and wealth. Then there had been the trust fund fools, only interested in physical pleasures and assuming everyone in their class felt the same way.

For all his flaws, Flint wasn't like any of them. He was fair, hardworking and generally treated people well, at least if they weren't Cobras. But for some reason, he got to her in ways that none of those others had ever managed. She knew how to deal with creeps, but, frankly, he confused her. He was shallow, but dedicated; intelligent, yet clueless; annoying, while dependable.

Watching out of the corner of her eye, she noted that he was actually happy to see her. He had to know she was going to turn him down again, but Flint kept trying. No one had ever thought she was coy or indirect, so she couldn't understand why he kept it up.

He reminded her of a badly-trained puppy. Overeager, unruly, occasionally making a mess, and refusing to release a bone it'd found, but still a puppy you felt bad about correcting.

It didn't help that he was so sexually aggressive. In her limited experience with the type, well, "lover" wasn't a term that came to mind for what they wanted to be. And, yet, somehow she doubted he fit into that category, for all his outward forwardness. She just didn't know what to think of him, and that made her wary.

"Any word on the team's status?" she asked, hoping he'd realize that she was distracted.

"Nah, they aren't going to disband us," he answered dismissively.

Missing the hint again, he followed her as she tried to walk away, and she wondered if he was going to try a corny line or enumerate what he considered his irresistible charms this time around. When he tried both, she was privately amused that he thought a combination of irritating attempts would work.

The response she wanted to give him vanished as soon as she spotted the Cobra Eels climbing onto Staten Island from the river. Pulling him to cover, she pointed out the threat. Flint told her to warn the others, throwing himself at the group to create a distraction.

Threw himself into an almost certain death.

She ran back to the motor pool to raise the alarm, keeping a watch out for more Cobra invaders, unaware of the tears in her eyes. _He's dead_; the thought kept repeating in her mind. The egotistical jerk she'd just curtly blown off was probably dead by now. Flint hadn't hesitated a second to risk his life to give her a chance to get away, to protect the others.

The total selflessness of the act shocked Jaye to her core. The stupidity of it rocked her when she reached Spirit and found out the others already knew of the attack; a unit of Battle Android Troops had entered the Pit earlier.

He'd thrown his life away for nothing.

The stupid, idiotic lug of a warrant officer had gotten himself killed for no good reason.

Gotten himself killed because he'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time trying to get her to notice him.

Lady Jaye turned her anger outward, focusing on defeating the Cobras responsible. They needed weapons, and she was ready to beat the clerk blocking their way to the armory senseless when Flint staggered in. She called out his name, amazed he was alive, fearful when she noticed the extent of his injuries.

Her concerns were short-lived as he took charge of distributing weapons. His wounds only fueled his own notorious temper, and he fought with a ferocity that made his earlier match with Scarlett seem like a playful game. Jaye wasn't the only one who kept an eye on him as they tried to salvage something of their base, but she was the one who helped him to the medics after it was all over.

As they walked around the fort later, she tried to figure out what she was feeling. Nothing in her life had prepared her for someone like Flint. It was hardly something from Emily Post: What was the proper behavior to show an oversexed egomaniac who had been ready and willing to die for you?

Especially one, she was forced to admit to herself, who she probably had completely misjudged.

That irked her enough to make her uncomfortable. She was Intel for God's sake; reading people and situations were supposed to be part of her skills. She had told him she didn't believe in hidden assets, but were his really that hidden? Well, yes, they were buried under layers of bluster and ego, but she knew they were there. As much as he pushed her buttons, he was essentially a good guy.

And, with no small amount of horror, that was when she realized she _wanted_ to like the big oaf.

She was still mentally staggering under that insight when he dismissed her comments about Scarlett being worried about Snake Eyes. Snakes been sent undercover to infiltrate Cobra in response to the attack, and they had no way of knowing if he was safe. Flint spouted some platitude about how Scarlett should be used to the fear by now, and Lady Jaye couldn't believe he was that clueless.

She turned all her conflicting emotions on Flint, demanding to know if he even knew what it meant to be afraid. Obviously confused by both the question and her vehemence, he insisted that he'd been scared plenty of times. She wasn't sure if he were being honest or not, so she just sneered and told him that here she had started to think he was really stupid.

And after countless attempts at cutting him down, that comment finally seemed to get through to him.

She decided it was probably the only time in his life that someone had openly doubted his intelligence. And it bothered him, a fact that intrigued her. For some reason, he actually cared what she thought of him.

Too worried about Scarlett – and unsettled by her own emotions – she pushed down her thoughts of Flint. Instead, she grabbed Scarlett to get her help with the intelligence analyses needed after the invasion. Not that she required assistance, but it would keep her friend's mind occupied. Jaye didn't offer any sappy lines about how Snake Eyes could take care of himself – the martial artist knew that better than any of them. She just stayed close, offering her silent support.

Later, Flint came in balancing three cans of soda and started talking to Scarlett. Hawk had decided to send in a retrieval team to get Snake Eyes out. Something had gone wrong, but the team was going to fix it. The warrant officer's tone wasn't really sympathetic, nor was he exactly supportive, but his frank honesty seemed to be what Scarlett needed to hear.

He scored more points by wanting to personally lead the mission to retrieve Snake Eyes, but he conceded that his injured shoulder would hinder the rescue and turned the job over to Stalker. Before he left, he turned to Jaye for a long moment. His expression was unreadable, but she got the impression he wanted to tell her something. He didn't say anything, just nodding at her before he returned to Hawk's temporary office.

A few days later, Lady Jaye found out Flint had been the one who first suggested sending in a team to help Snake Eyes. When she approached him about it, he waved her off and changed the conversation.

"Did Red understand why Hawk didn't want her on the mission?"

"She wasn't happy about it," Jaye answered.

"No one expected she would be," he said gruffly, the pen in his hand tapping the table sharply.

"It's not easy staying behind when someone you care about is in trouble," she told him bluntly.

He eyed her briefly with that damnable look of his – the one that always made her feel like a harridan. "Even an _idiot_ knows that."

Resisting the urge to swear, Jaye refused to apologize; he _had_ acted like a bloody idiot, and he was lucky she was the only one who had heard him. Still, he had made a good recovery.

"At least you're one who can learn," she said, not unkindly, feeling better when his expression softened.

"What do you want to teach me?" he asked, the sudden infusion of salaciousness causing her to shake her head in disgust as she left.

It was too much to hope that he'd change his behavior, but she was pleasantly surprised when he at least tried to tone it down around her afterwards. Not that he was always successful, and when he failed, he did so on a grand scale.

She had arrived early for a mission briefing to distribute intelligence reports. A group of Joes were going to Europe, ostensibly to take part in a NATO training exercise, but really to look for Cobra activity in neighboring Trans-Carpathia. She was assigned to the recon team operating on the border, and it was going to be her first time working with Flint since the attack on the motor pool.

She looked up when he leaned against the table beside her, handing her a cup of coffee. Sweet, with just a touch of cream, the way she always took it in the afternoon. Fixing her coffee differently depending on the time of day was a personality quirk of hers, one that few people noticed. From his smug expression, she had the feeling he had deciphered the pattern, but she couldn't figure out when. Jaye gave him a questioning look; he merely grinned at her.

"So, this mission should be a piece of cake. In and out, get the information, no confrontation with the snakes," he said, taking one of the reports and scanning it.

"Hmm," she said, starting a mental countdown as he sipped his own coffee, still reading.

"We'll probably have some downtime after it's all over. Have to keep up the NATO illusion, but then we'll be free while Hawk wraps up the diplomatic crap. It could be fun. You, me, a nice haunted castle on a mountaintop, making enough racket to wake the undead."

"How could anyone refuse an offer like that?" she asked in amusement. He was getting better; he'd nearly made it thirty seconds before trying a line. For someone so intelligent, he seemed helplessly lost when it came to dealing with her. Didn't he realize that if he dropped all his posturing that he would actually_…_

_Actually have a shot with her?_

Her social life had definitely been lacking in the romance department since joining the military, but things had to be bad if she was even thinking about this. Sure, he was intelligent, brave and handsome, but he was, well, Flint.

"I think I'd rather join the undead," Lady Jaye said softly, walking by him to set up her presentation. She tried to focus on something more calming, like facing down a Cobra attack while nude and unarmed.

And if there was a Second Cosmic Karmic Law of Flint, it was that whenever she started to warm up to him, he always said the worst possible thing.

He tilted his head, leaning forward and lowering his voice. "You are into guys, aren't you?"

The glare she directed at him caused him to jerk back suddenly, his hands held in front of his chest defensively. "Just asking. I don't want to waste your time if you're not."

The appearance of Hawk and the others was the only thing stopping her from unleashing a torrent in his direction, and it took all her skill to maintain a calm demeanor through the long meeting.

Once back in the women's barracks, though, she started swearing, working her way through the various languages she knew. Sitting on her bunk, she pulled off one boot and sent it flying over Scarlett's bunk and across the room. The redhead – who had been in the bed reading – just turned a page in her magazine as the boot flew over her head.

"Do you know what your problem is, Jaye? You keep things bottled up," Scarlett said dryly. "You need to learn to vent."

"Go ahead and laugh. It's not like you ever have to worry about Flint making any moves on you," she snapped back.

"I beg your pardon?"

Jaye swore again as she tugged her other boot off and sent it after the first. Getting Scarlett riled up was never a good thing, and her clipped tones indicated she wasn't pleased. "You know what I mean."

"Do tell."

Rolling her eyes, she pulled out her duffel bag. "One, everyone knows you and Snakes are an item. Two, Flint knows you could break every bone in his body if he tried this shit with you. He's not that big of an idiot."

"Uh, huh," Scarlett said, giving her a sharp look before returning to her reading.

"Oh, you know she's right," Cover Girl piped in from the bathroom. "What did he do this time?"

She related the whole "into guys" scene, growling when the other two broke out laughing.

"The classic fallback defense for the wounded male ego," Cover Girl assured her.

"Not one I've ever had to deal with before. He's driving me crazy – and no comments about being there already!"

Scarlett set down her magazine. "Look, if he's really starting to bother you, I can show you a way to get your point across more _…_ directly. If you do it right, it might even be a permanent discouragement."

Jaye stopped packing to stare at her friend in amazement. If? Starting? Had she listened to any of her prior rants, or did Scarlett think she enjoyed Flint's unending advances?

"No," she finally said. "He's not worth getting court-martialed over. Besides, I don't want to hurt him; he's too much of an asset to the team."

"Really?" they chorused together, and Lady Jaye collapsed on her cot, covering her head with the pillow to stifle her yell.

"He is a good Joe. He's a total, complete lug-head who gets on my nerves. How are the two mutually exclusive?"

"So, you want him to tone down his behavior, but you want to keep all his equipment in working order," Cover Girl said, wagging her eyebrows suggestively.

She dropped the pillow over her head again. "You're insane. Both of you are insane."

"We're just teasing you."

"Have you ever considered that he's doing the same?" Scarlett asked. "Maybe he's just trying to get a rise out of you."

"If so, he's into rejection."

"Maybe you should turn the tables on him," Cover Girl offered. "Go after him, put him on the defensive. See how he reacts if you go aggressive."

"It turns him on." When they started laughing again, Jaye told them how he'd mistaken her pulling him to cover during the Cobra invasion for a pass. "The misogynistic jerk."

"That's not fair," Scarlett said seriously.

"I know. He's not a misogynistic jerk, just a jerk," Jaye growled. "Too bad. It'd be a lot easier if I could just hate him."

"Flint gets you this worked up, and you don't hate him?" Scarlett asked innocently, prompting another multi-lingual outburst. "Okay, now I think you're just making that up."

"It did sound like something the Swedish Chef would say," Cover Girl agreed.

Lady Jaye glared at her friends. "You know what's really messed up?"

"You're into him?" Cover Girl asked with a wicked grin.

"I am not! I feel bad when his feelings get hurt when I turn down his unwelcome advances."

"But you're not into him at all?"

"How do you deal with him?" Lady Jaye demanded, wanting to change the conversation's direction and knowing the former model had more experience with unwanted attention than she'd ever gain.

"I don't," Cover Girl said with a broad smirk. "He's not interested in me."

That caused Jaye to sit up in bed. Most men were reduced to open-mouthed drooling idiots when they first met the tall, lithe tank driver and mechanic. It was impossible to believe that Flint – practically the walking definition of sex-on-the-brain – hadn't found her desirable. "What? He has met you, hasn't he?"

"A couple of times. He stopped by the motor pool today to make sure the equipment would be ready for the mission," Cover Girl said.

"And he didn't _…_ react?"

"Oh, he definitely checked me out, but not a single pass. Face the facts, girl, you're the only one who's caught his interest."

"Why me?"

"Hard to imagine, isn't it?" Scarlett muttered, obviously still perturbed over her earlier comment.

"You know I didn't mean anything by it," Lady Jaye said, tossing her pillow. Scarlett didn't stop reading, but easily plucked the projectile out of the air and put it under her head in a smooth motion. Realizing that she wasn't going to get her pillow back anytime soon, Jaye headed off to the bathroom, swearing loudly.

"I'll remember you said that," Scarlett said sweetly.

"You have no idea what I said!"

"No, but I'm an expert at reading body language."

"You didn't see me!"

"Want to bet on that?"

Lady Jaye disappeared into the bathroom to the sound of more laughter, wondering how her life had taken this turn into madness.

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

**A Book By Its Cover  
Summary: **Flint's bluster never impressed Lady Jaye, so how did they end up together? A little bit of everything – action, adventure, angst, humor, romance. Marvel Comics-based, F/LJ and some S/SE.**  
A/N:** Honestly, this originally started as a little scene in the upcoming story, "_Duplicity_", but it grew too long. Being a truly demented plot bunny, it expanded into something of a back-story for Lady Jaye and how she and Flint became an item. Thanks to TiamatV and VR Trakowski for the beta services; all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

**A/N II:** This is part of a three-genre "It Came From the 80's Challenge" that I was foolish enough to take. Don't ask. The other stories from the challenge will be up later.**  
Rating:** A nice safe PG-13 for a bit of language, because, really, where would there be room for smut in this story?**  
Disclaimer:** I own nothing except a pair of cats, and they'll argue about who really owns whom.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Lady Jaye's mood was still sour when they boarded the cargo planes for the flight to Europe the next day. She took refuge in the fact that Cover Girl was part of the armor team, and she joined the heavy equipment and drivers, enjoying the chance to get to know some of the Joes she rarely worked with.

"I've been thinking," Cover Girl told her, once they'd finished unloading the equipment and were alone. "I think I know what the problem is with Flint."

Jaye raised an eyebrow slowly, wondering if she wanted to know Courtney's answer. A lot of people wrongly assumed the ex-model's beauty meant she was stupid. While she didn't have a college education, Cover Girl was sharp, and she had more than her share of common sense. More importantly, she was an expert on getting rid of sexually overactive boors. But, as their earlier conversation had amply proven, she also had a wicked sense of humor. "If you say I'm into him, I swear _…_"

The tank driver smiled but didn't press the issue. "Relax. Not that you're going to like this much better."

"Oh, great."

"I think he likes you."

"What?" Of all the things Jaye expected her friend to say, that wasn't one of them. "How is that the problem? He can like me all he wants, as long as the non-stop advances… stop."

"He's also not used to rejection," she explained. "You're probably the only woman he's ever wanted who's turned him down. Or the only woman he's wanted enough to keep after."

"So you're saying he's dense?"

"No, I'm saying he's asking you out the only way he knows how. It doesn't help that you always go on the defensive whenever he shows up. Or someone mentions him," Cover Girl added pointedly.

Jaye decided to ignore the "defensive" comment. "There're women who fall for those lines? Who? The IQ-smaller-than-breast-size crowd?"

"Men aren't the only ones who can be shallow. Flint has a hot body. There are plenty of women willing to sleep with a guy like him. And I'm certain he's the type who's great in bed."

Jaye winced as she dropped a case of MREs on her foot. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the Wolverine. "I'm almost afraid to ask how you know that."

"I started modeling in high school. I did the whole rock star, wild party scene for years. Any stories you've heard about that lifestyle don't begin to describe what it's really like. There's a reason I went into something saner like the army. But I've met, hell, I've _known_ a lot of guys like Flint. They're all about women _wanting_ to sleep with them. It turns them on to know that a woman is going to come panting after them for more sex."

"Before today, I never once considered that I led a sheltered life."

"Well, there are a lot of stories my parents never heard. And are never going to."

"You're not exactly making him seem like a better catch," Lady Jaye noted. "I'm not interested in being his next conquest."

"We're based in New York. If all he wanted was just a quick lay, he'd have no problem with the bar or club scene."

Pushing off from the armored vehicle, she started pacing. She had to concede that Flint was trying awfully hard if all he wanted was a roll in the hay. Somehow, that wasn't exactly a comforting thought. "So give him some directions to the bars. Or I'll introduce you two, since you _know_ his type."

"I grew up."

"And I haven't?"

"You were born grown-up," Cover Girl laughed. "Have you considered he's starting to? Grow up, I mean."

Jaye flashed her a quick glare. If Flint's current behavior was more mature, she didn't want to think about what he had been like before. "No, I can't say I have."

"I heard him tell Duke he was impressed by how intelligent you are," the ex-model said, not adding that Flint had qualified the compliment with a "for a former actress".

"He did?" she asked uncertainly.

"Considering how smart he is, I'd say you made a big impression on him. I think he likes the idea of a woman who can keep up with him. And it's not as if he's lacking in good qualities."

"I know, I know," Jaye sighed. "Flint reminds me of them all the time."

"So he's not modest. There're worse personality flaws."

"Is he paying you to do PR or something?"

"No, but he's not that bad of a guy, and you're my friend. You're going to have to find a way of dealing with him. I don't think he's going to give up. I'm not saying he has an engagement ring picked out already, but you've gotten to him."

"Yeah, but what if I don't want him?"

"Keep telling yourself that," Cover Girl smirked.

After camp was established, Jaye wasn't able to avoid Flint, but she kept her responses to him purely professional. He had enough brain cells to recognize his earlier blunder, and he kept his side of the conversation focused on work. A few times she thought he was on the verge of apologizing, but then he'd back away suddenly.

To her growing annoyance, Jaye started wondering if she had scared him off. Dealing with a clueless jerk was one thing, but if he really did like her and just didn't know how to approach her – well, that was different. In a twisted sort of way, it was actually endearing. It was certainly better than a guy who knew all the right things to say but meant none of them. And while Flint's approach was still annoying, that was a simple enough thing to fix.

If she wanted to fix it.

No matter what Cover Girl had suggested, there was no proof Flint was after anything other than sex, and that wasn't what Lady Jaye wanted. Okay, he had a great body, and the speculation on his prowess sent her mind down some interesting paths – the man _was_ good at everything else he bragged about – but they had to work together. The last thing she wanted was the reputation as the team's go-to-girl whenever one of the guys got horny.

There was also the very real obstacle of fraternization. To compensate for their stressful positions, the team got a lot of leeway when it came to military regulations – dress codes and grooming standards were lax, they got more leave, and the structure of command was more fluid. But the military frowned on relationships within a unit in general, and most units never even operated in the conditions they routinely had to.

Everyone turned a blind eye towards Snake Eyes and Scarlett, but, really, who was stupid enough to tell an in-love ninja that he couldn't see his equally protective and deadly girlfriend? Besides, the pair raised discretion to an art form; where they rendezvoused was a matter of terrified curiosity among the team – nobody wanted to be the one who walked in on them.

They were also both sergeants, but Flint was an officer, and the regulations were clear-cut about relationships with an enlisted member. It was one of the many things that confused her about him. Normally, he was the walking embodiment of professionalism, so his willingness to flaunt the regulations to sleep with her made Lady Jaye question if he was even thinking logically – or with his brain at all.

A fling wouldn't do either of their careers any good. She'd worked too hard to get where she was to throw it away. Still, she had to admit that under other circumstances Flint would probably have made a good friend.

On the day of the mission, they climbed into an A.W.E. Striker and headed for the mountains, using the vehicle's all-terrain capabilities to move along the low ridgeline that marked the border. It wasn't long before they were away from the units on maneuvers, and Flint slowed down as they looked for a spot to set up their monitoring equipment.

It didn't take them long to confirm the presence of Cobra, but in far greater numbers than they had expected. Multiple HISS tanks, Rattlers and personnel carriers were garrisoned in a valley not far away, and a squadron of Vipers was right on the border. Worse, said squadron had noticed the A.W.E. Striker. Flint immediately turned them around, flooring the gas pedal as he headed away from their open position.

"They're jamming us on all freaks. I can't get a message back to base," Jaye said, putting the radio down and looking over her shoulder. "They're following us! Don't they know they'll create an international incident if they cross the border?"

"Technically, the border is in dispute. Both sides consider this ridgeline to be in their country."

She braced herself as a mortar round exploded to their left and ahead of them. "Nice time to mention that fact."

"Too bad Intel didn't let us know the Cobras were going to be right on top of us," he shot back.

"When I find out where the screw-up happened, heads are going to roll," she said, wincing as a piece of shrapnel tore into her shirtsleeve.

"Lady Jaye?"

"I'm fine. It's just a scratch," she hissed, stunned by the sudden concern in his voice. "Find us some cover and get into undisputed territory."

"Trust me, I'm trying."

He shifted gears and headed into a sparsely wooded area. It gave them some cover, but it forced him to decelerate considerably to navigate around the trunks and exposed roots. That turned out to be a good thing, because a rocket hit the ground in front of them, throwing both of them from the slow-moving A.W.E. Striker.

Lady Jaye inhaled deeply as she rolled to a stop, shaking her head to clear it. Looking up, she noticed the vehicle had eventually landed on the driver's side, and she called Flint's name worriedly.

Running around the side, she heard a faint reply and gasped when she found him suspended upside down over the edge of a ravine. The bluff started at a gradual slope, but around mid-thigh, it dropped off suddenly. The only thing keeping him from falling over the edge was a tree, knocked loose by the explosion and pinning his left calf against some large rocks. Blood was already soaking through the material of his BDUs.

The rock face dipped sharply inward to the immediate right of his pinned leg, and she gingerly worked her way down to a narrow ledge. Crossing it, she was able to get into position standing next to his trapped leg. By standing on a small boulder at the end of the ledge, she was able to reach the debris around his foot.

The only good thing about their location was they were on the other side of the ridge from Cobra, with a wall of solid rock between them and the enemy fire. Her current position let her see over the top of the drop-off, giving her some cover in case Cobra came looking for them. Setting her M-16 near the edge, she started examining the tree, trying to figure out the best way of freeing Flint. Time was important, but if she didn't do this right, he'd fall to his death.

She was prodding the rocks around his foot, looking for the best ones to remove, when he snapped, "Are you going to leave me hanging around all day?"

"How's your back?" she asked, bracing her legs on what she hoped was a solid outcropping of rock. "Did you hurt it in the fall?"

"It's fine."

"Then sit up!" Leaning forward, she grabbed a hold of his shirt and pulled, slipping her left arm through the strap of his web-gear as he wrapped his arms and right leg around her body. She thought his hands were a little too close to copping a feel, but she was too busy trying to regain her balance to comment. Once she was more centered, she took out her knife and began digging the dirt out from under his calf.

"You know, this reminds me of some dreams I've had about you. Too bad Cobra is around. This could've been fun," he said in a mischievous tone. She actually paused for a split-second to stare at him in disbelief; he was injured, stuck in a position that would make a gymnast uncomfortable, with Cobra trying to kill them and he'd _still_ try a line?

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't let your oversexed, Neanderthal ass drop down this ravine," she growled, setting her knife down and retrieving her M-16, calmly picking off two Cobra Vipers that had showed up to examine the remains of the A.W.E. Striker.

"You're too professional," he answered after giving her one of those ephemeral looks that always cut through her defenses.

"We're both going to be splattered if you don't find something to hold on to instead of me," she pointed out as the boulder under her feet started to move. With a groan, she tightened her grip on his web-gear strap, hefting Flint as she moved her feet to a more stable piece of ground.

"Okay." He shifted position, grabbing an exposed root with his hands. Pulling up, he slipped his free leg to reach a foothold far to his right. "Hurry up."

"Not flexible enough?" she retorted, adrenaline fueling her conflicting emotions of concern and irritation. Her eyes constantly scanned the area above them as she worked hurriedly. If one set of Cobras had shown up, it wouldn't be long before more came. They had some cover from a frontal assault, but their backs were completely exposed if any Vipers flanked them.

"No. Losing too much blood," he grunted.

Any lingering ire faded as she jerked her head around, noticing the way he was gritting his teeth. His position was probably straining muscles he'd bruised in the explosion, and more blood was soaking through several small wounds across his chest and shoulders.

"Hang on. I have pressure bandages _..._"

"No, get me down first. We're too exposed here. I'm not going to be able to run any races today. We're going to have to find cover until someone comes for us."

"Right," she agreed, trying not to stare at the pool of blood forming under his leg. "It won't be long. I think the others have noticed the commotion by now."

The urge to whisper platitudes that he was going to be fine, that she'd take care of him, floated around the back of her mind; the front of her mind was trying to figure out how to get him to safety. His leg was nearly free, but she had to leave enough supporting rocks so the tree trunk didn't crush his foot.

Worse, he was going to start sliding the moment she shifted the rocks away from his leg. He wasn't going to be able to keep his grip much longer at the rate he was losing blood. The ground under her feet wasn't as stable as she'd hoped, and she doubted it would hold both their weights.

As she feared, his body started dropping when she began pulling more rocks away. While he kept quiet, she felt his body tense in pain as the way he was slipping forced him into a more uncomfortable contortion. The situation also made it clear that she had to get his body angled differently; while Jaye was stronger than she looked, the ledge on which she stood was narrow. She wasn't going to get a second chance to haul him onto it once he started falling.

"Hang on, tough guy. I'm going to move us into a better position. Wrap your arm around me, okay?"

Jaye braced her legs against the rock outcropping when his left arm reached around her, but she paused when he tried to pry her hand off his web-gear strap.

"You're not going to be able to hold onto me. This ledge isn't stable enough. Go get help."

"I'm not leaving you here," she said, unwilling to let him risk his life to protect her again. Even if he didn't bleed to death before she returned with help, he wouldn't be able to defend himself against any Cobras that showed up.

"Get out of here," he growled. "That's an _…_"

The rest of his statement was cut off when mortar shells hit the remains of the A.W.E. Striker, sending burning wreckage falling around them. She tried to pull him into the relative safety of the rock face, all the while tightening her hold on him in case the explosion knocked him loose. For his part, he tried to cover her body with his, shielding her from the hot metal.

"If it's all the same to you, I think it's safer down here," Lady Jaye said, leaning over to finish clearing the debris pinning his leg. She was working on the last of the rocks when she heard the roar of an engine above the other battle sounds. At the same time, Flint pushed her head down below the top of the edge.

"Incoming. Something big ... all right! Here! Over here!" he yelled.

She glanced up to see Cover Girl rushing toward them. The former model took one look at their situation and started radioing for a med-evac and air support as she raced back to her Wolverine. In a moment, she'd tied two lines to the armored vehicle, tossing the end of one to Jaye and securing the other around Flint's chest. Picking up the M-16, she provided cover against a line of Vipers trying to sneak around from the west. Then she returned to the Wolverine, this time unleashing a round of rocket fire that stopped that Cobra advance towards them.

Without having to support his weight, Jaye was free to scramble closer to the tree and use both hands to shift rocks. It didn't take long for them to free Flint, pulling him up by the rope around his chest and helping him onto the Wolverine. She worked on bandaging the large gash running up his calf as Cover Girl drove them to the landing zone, but by the time the chopper arrived, he'd passed out.

"He's lost a lot of blood," Lady Jaye told Doc once they were in the helicopter, slumping back and watching worriedly as he started the IVs. It was startling to see the brash warrant officer looking so pale and helpless, but at least his leg wasn't mangled. She wasn't even aware of the numerous small cuts and scrapes she had until Stalker began bandaging her arm.

She didn't have a chance to thank Cover Girl until days later, when they were all back in the Pit. Flint had been flown back immediately, while Jaye had been stuck behind trying to figure out how their intelligence had failed so drastically. It turned out to be a simple clerical error at the Embassy, with the necessary data getting filed incorrectly, and she'd given the workers an incensed tirade about their incompetence nearly killing people.

Once she saw the tank driver, though, she was briefly tempted to turn her anger on her. Cover Girl apparently had a flair for the dramatic, and she was entertaining the team with a rather colorful description of Flint and Lady Jaye's adventure. Worse, Roadblock had scored a large amount of chocolate before coming back from Europe, and most of the team was present to hear the tale as he passed around trays of his homemade cookies, brownies and éclairs. At least Scarlett and Snake Eyes weren't there to hear it; she knew they'd have too much fun with the embellishments the former model was adding to the story.

"It wasn't that bad," she complained once Cover Girl started describing how Jaye had been pressed between Flint's legs, but she couldn't get angry. The way the former model told the story was just too funny, even if it was far more erotic than the reality had been.

For his part, Flint took in the joking with a surprisingly mellow mood, and she suspected painkillers played a part in his reaction. He still limped, and there was a definite tightness around his eyes when he had to move. Her own muscles had ached painfully after the adrenaline had worn off, so she could imagine how he felt.

She hadn't had a chance to talk to him since his injury, uncertain of how to approach him. Something had to change. As much as it confused her, Lady Jaye liked the knucklehead, liked him a lot more than she wanted to admit. But his sexual overtures were getting old, and that was a very real obstacle to their friendship.

And right now, that was all she wanted. It probably would have been simplest to explain the situation to him, to tell him to drop the lines and attitude.

But that was the thing; it _was_ simple, and he needed to figure that out himself if they were to have any future.

As friends.

Just friends.

Jaye turned her attention back to Cover Girl's story, which was wrapping up as she described getting them to the med-evac site and returning to the fight to chase the Cobras far from the border.

There was a round of friendly cheers and catcalls as people reacted to the story, and Cover Girl took a bow before sitting next to Lady Jaye. Flint grinned as Roadblock set a plate of brownies in front of him.

"You always end up with the lovely ladies," Roadblock teased, winking at the pair of female Joes. "You gotta share your secrets, my man."

"What can I say? It's talent."

A loud snort came from the corner of the room.

"Yeah, a talent for getting stuck upside down," Clutch said.

"And having to have the girls rescue you," Steeler added with a raucous laugh.

"It's not like he even got any action out of it. Man, can you imagine being wrapped around a body like Jaye's? I'd have _…_"

Flint turned to them sharply, on his feet with a suddenness that belied his injuries. He crossed the room before anyone else even reacted. "You got something to say?" he asked Clutch, his voice oddly calm.

"Besides 'you had to be rescued by girls'?" the mechanic chuckled, but his smile vanished when he saw the look in the warrant officer's eyes. "Aw, man, we're just joking."

"Just joking? You mean about Jaye risking her life to free me from explosion debris while picking off Vipers? Cover Girl calling in medical help and stopping the entire Cobra advance? All without breaking a sweat?" he demanded.

Steeler tried to back off. "We didn't mean nothing by it _…_"

"And I don't give a damn what type of underwear they need, _those_ are two Joes I'll be glad to have watching my back on any mission," Flint said, his tone making it clear what he thought of the particular pair in front of him.

Lady Jaye watched the exchange silently, resisting the urge to shake her head. Clutch's comment was essentially the same as what Flint had said to her while stuck over the bluff, or at least in the words were. But there was a definite difference in the context. When Flint had said it, it had been crass – and his timing had been terrible – but it hadn't left her feeling like she needed a shower. No, his comment had been lighthearted; in fact it had been almost, _almost_, complimentary in his unique way.

Maybe Cover Girl was right. Maybe it was the big goofball's way of being friendly.

But right now there was nothing friendly in his body language, and others were starting to shift nervously as he continued to stare down Clutch and Steeler.

The tension in the mess hall snapped when a simple, slow clap started on the other side of the room. No one had noticed Snake Eyes enter – of course – but he stood beside a table with two glasses of milk and a plate of baked goods in front of him. When all eyes were on him, he picked up one glass and raised it in a silent salute to Flint and then to Cover Girl and Lady Jaye.

"You said it, Snake Eyes," Roadblock called out, wrapping a massive arm around Flint and steering him back to his chair as a cheer went up. Jaye swore she saw Snake Eyes' shoulders lift in a silent laugh as he slipped out of the mess hall with the milk and cookies.

"Some people can't take a joke," Clutch said as he and Steeler made half-hearted salutes to the women before making a hasty exit. They hadn't expected that reaction from Flint, and they certainly weren't going to argue with a ninja with very definite views on Scarlett's abilities.

Cover Girl and Jaye accepted the cheering good-naturedly, clicking their soda glasses together before turning toward Flint. They both saluted him, and he returned the gesture before catching Lady Jaye's eye, regarding her carefully for a long time.

Pleasantly, she noticed there was nothing sexual in his scrutiny, just respect. Raising her glass again, she smiled openly at him for the first time, and he responded with a broad, lopsided grin.

_  
TBC_


	4. Chapter 4

**A Book By Its Cover  
A/N: **Same as before. Thanks to TiamatV for her beta services, but I'm keeping any remaining mistakes for myself; I'm greedy that way.**  
Disclaimer:** I own nothing except a pair of cats, and they'll argue about who really owns whom.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

After a week of desert exercises, Lady Jaye trudged through the Pit thinking only of a long shower, a vat of moisturizer and her bunk. Opening the door to the darkened women's barracks, she noted Cover Girl was back and entered the room quietly. She hadn't gotten far before the lump on the ex-model's bed stirred.

"Go do something about lover boy before his codename gets changed to 'Mr. Cranky Pants,'" said a mumbled voice from under a blanket.

"We are _not_ lovers," she said tiredly, dropping her duffle bag on the floor.

"Probably why you're both so cranky."

"I'm not cranky!"

"Gah."

Jaye's retort died in her throat as the tank driver rolled over and went back to sleep. Letting out a long breath, she cast a parting, wistful look at her bunk before heading to the control center.

When the Pit had originally been designed, privacy and personal space hadn't been considered priorities, and that had been for a team of only twelve. Since then, the Joes had grown to scores of members, but they'd never really gained any additional space – leaving them packed like the world's most highly-trained and lethal can of sardines. It was impossible to keep anything a secret for long in their headquarters.

As a result, everyone noticed the change in Lady Jaye and Flint's relationship, although no one, including Jaye, claimed to understand what was going on. He continued to be blatantly interested in sex, but he was far less aggressive in his approach. That made him a lot easier for her to deal with, and a sort of tentative friendship was developing.

One consequence of that was Jaye's presence usually calmed him down when he was in a bad mood. That, in turn, was a fact the whole team eagerly exploited since his temper had been even shorter than normal; a nasty infection had slowed the recovery of his leg injury, and he grew more frustrated the longer he was stuck at headquarters.

She found Flint alone in the radio room, sitting with a mountain of paperwork in front of him.

"Everything okay?" she asked softly.

He turned suddenly at the sound of her voice, but he gave her a nod in greeting as he leaned back in his chair. "Beach Head's team missed their last two radio check-ins."

"Are they still in the jungle where Destro is building that thingamajig?"

"I think the technical term is 'doohickey'," he said.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, concerned by how tense his muscles were. "Didn't Breaker say that whatever it is, it was interfering with local radio transmissions?"

"Yes," he said, taking a deep breath and obviously trying to relax.

"So, a lack of radio contact isn't unexpected."

"No," Flint admitted slowly, "but they didn't have any troubles earlier. We don't know if the snakes found them, or if Destro turned up the juice on that thing to toast his crumpets."

"That's conjuring up mental images involving the Baroness that I really didn't need," she said lightly. Moving around to lean against the control panel, she watched him carefully. He gave her a half-hearted smile, but it was clear to her that he was still concerned.

She wondered how many people even suspected that this side of him existed.

The rest of the team assumed his bad mood was a result of his injury, and that was partially true. That was the obvious part of his nature – he wasn't one to wait on the sidelines; he was the kind who always wanted to be in the thick of the action. But the reason ran deeper than that, although it wasn't obvious.

For all his confidence in his own tactical plans and in his teammates' abilities, Flint wanted to be in the field in case anything went wrong. The man who'd be the first to brusquely state, "They knew what they signed up for," if a mission went awry – and honestly believe his own words – still worried about his friends. And it bothered him, deeply, that he wasn't in a position to go to their aid if they needed help.

It was an emotional connection that he tried to hide, but once she saw the first hints of its existence, it was impossible for her to ignore. While his professionalism was admirable in its own right, knowing that it was tempered by compassion – albeit unexpressed – raised Jaye's opinion of him considerably.

That was a position she found herself constantly readjusting in the aftermath of their European mission.

The added information about his personality made her realize there really _was_ more to Flint than he let others see, leaving her wondering how much he still kept hidden. Oh, he was certainly gregarious in his good moods, just as his temper was notorious, and his frustration obvious. But his fears, his worries, his hopes and motivations – those he kept to himself, only letting Jaye catch glimpses of them.

He wasn't so much a book as an anthology; none of the covers he allowed to show told the whole story about him. The mystery only made him more interesting to Lady Jaye, even as it added to the confusion about how she felt.

"You know, your leg would probably heal faster if you actually took your R&R," she said kindly, watching him cautiously stretching his left leg out.

"What's the point of taking a vacation if you can't enjoy it?" he grumbled. "Besides, someone needs to do the paperwork. _That's_ something Doc will let me do."

"Yeah, what does he know? Four years of medical school, residency, internship, years treating battle injuries," Jaye said with a straight face, finally smiling when he rolled his shoulders in acknowledgment and flashed her a grin.

"I know, I know. It's just _…_ I don't like being on the sidelines."

"So we've noticed."

Flint let out a huff and turned around to face her, and Jaye shook her head as the familiar hunger filled his eyes. She was wind-chapped, sunburnt, and hadn't had a proper shower in days, and he still wanted her. If nothing else, the man knew how to make her feel desirable.

"Down, boy. I've been in the field for a week. My BDUs could walk off on their own," she said in mock-warning.

"Well, they say it's what's underneath that counts."

"And that's not too appealing right now."

"You're gorgeous," Flint said, and he actually sounded sincere.

"You're not so rough on the eyes yourself," she admitted, wondering if the sunburn covered her blush.

His face lit up at the compliment. "It's not my only good quality."

"So you've told me. I'm going to bed. You should do the same," Lady Jaye said, pushing off the console and heading for the door. She paused partway and looked over her shoulder. "And that wasn't an invitation."

"You sure?"

"Very."

"You don't know what you're missing," Flint called out as he gathered his papers together.

"And yet somehow I think I'll survive," Jaye sighed dramatically, giving him a parting smile before leaving.

Flint's mood was better the next day, especially after Recondo radioed in to report that he had rendezvoused with Beach Head's team and found them all right; the mystery machine _had_ been blocking their transmissions. When Hawk gave Jaye a passing, amused look later in the afternoon, she wondered if her job description was now going to include warrant officer-sitting duties.

To her surprise, the idea wasn't entirely unappealing. They had stressful jobs, and anything that helped the team function better was worth pursuing. And she liked the knucklehead; if she could help him focus, then that was an added bonus.

Her growing closeness with Flint wasn't without its complications, though. Their newfound openness also meant their professional disagreements were more frank, a tendency that came to light when the team received news of potential Cobra activity in San Francisco.

The local authorities didn't have much concrete evidence to offer, nor did they seem to take the reports too seriously. The FBI had provided some general information, but the Joes were basically going into the mission blind. That didn't sit well with Lady Jaye, especially after the intelligence blunder in Europe, so she volunteered to go in first to scout out more information.

Flint overrode her, not wanting to delay getting the snakes out of the country. Personally, she thought he was too anxious to finally be going on a mission again, although she never voiced _that_ opinion. Their private disagreement on the matter never really escalated – although Duke did stick his head in the office once to ask if anything was wrong – but the bickering left them mildly annoyed with one another.

Despite their quarrel, she was the first person Flint picked to join his team.

Early the next morning, she met Gung Ho, Lifeline and Dial Tone by the jeep, smiling when she realized she'd interrupted an extremely lewd joke the burly Marine was sharing with the others. Noticing their discomfort, Jaye delivered the punch line – adding hand gestures to emphasize its sexual nature. Dial Tone looked like he was about to die of shock as the meaning of her words sunk in, Gung Ho's jaw dropped before he burst out into a guttural laugh, but she really delighted in the blush creeping up Lifeline's face.

She was gently teasing the medic when Flint shouted out gruff orders to get a move on, and his scowl almost seemed to have an edge of hurt to it. His reaction bothered her, since she didn't think their earlier argument had been more than a professional difference of opinion.

Calling shotgun, she climbed into the front seat next to Flint, trying to soothe things over with a kind look. If he noticed her effort, he never acknowledged it as they headed out.

Things really went downhill almost immediately.

The plan was for them to pick up their air transport at McGuire Air Force Base in New Jersey – except that a drunken truck driver had crashed ahead of them on the expressway, jack-knifing and hitting several other vehicles in the process. Once they stopped, Lifeline immediately jumped out of the jeep to aid the wounded, and Flint had just started barking at him when Jaye put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's not like we're going anywhere," she pointed out, indicating the complete standstill in front of them.

The other Joes got out to assist until the local authorities showed up, and several times she noted Flint's annoyed look as she went from car to car, helping Lifeline check for injuries. She sighed privately at his impatience but understood why he was in a hurry.

It took nearly an hour for the accident to be cleared and traffic to start rolling again, and that threw off their flight plans, delaying their takeoff for another ninety minutes. Once airborne, they hit a bad patch of turbulence. Cargo planes weren't comfortable in good conditions, and everyone was sore by the time the weather started to clear. Going over the Mississippi, the plane started experiencing serious problems with the hydraulics. By the time they reached the Rockies, the turbulence had kicked in again, and they were all ready to get back on the ground – hopefully without the use of parachutes.

Throughout it all, Lady Jaye tried to be patient with Flint. She suspected he had banged his leg during the first bout of turbulence, and there was no way he'd take something for the pain since the drugs would only cloud his thinking. Instead, the mercurial man snapped at the team the whole flight. His behavior was so different from his norm in the field that it was putting everyone on edge.

She kept telling herself he was in pain, not _being_ a pain, even after he refused her offer of aspirin. Feeling sympathetic for Flint, she acted as a buffer between him and the rest of the team, trying not to take his grumbling personally. But when he groused at her about some imaginary transgression, Jaye decided she'd reached the limits of her patience and crossed the cargo hold to take a seat next to Lifeline on the opposite bench.

Lady Jaye hadn't had a chance to spend much time with the pacifist medic, and she was curious about him. A lot of the team assumed his refusal to handle weapons meant he was a coward, but she had the opposite opinion: it took incredible courage to walk unarmed into a firefight against an enemy who'd see him as an easy target. While she had serious doubts about his level of common sense – and quite possibly his sanity – she never doubted his bravery.

He greeted her with an understanding smile as she sank onto the bench.

"How do you stay so calm?" she asked softly. "I'm ready to toss him overboard and tell Hawk he tripped. I don't think anyone would contradict me at this point."

"It doesn't do any good to get upset about things you can't change. All it does is emphasize that you don't have control," Lifeline said, dropping his head closer to hers. "Besides, I'm too busy concentrating on keeping my lunch down."

Chuckling, she leaned back on the seat and caught the angry glare Flint directed their way. She held his gaze for a long time, refusing to be intimidated. If he actually thought they were laughing at his injury, then the oaf was a bigger lug-head than she had ever imagined.

Their plane landed later that afternoon, but once on the ground, things didn't improve. In a short time, they verified that the "Cobra activity" was nothing more than a bunch of bored kids who thought dressing up as terrorists increased their reputations as wannabe anarchists. Flint read them the riot act, but technically they hadn't broken any laws, so the local police refused to get involved.

The team grabbed sandwiches from a deli while Dial Tone called Hawk at the Pit to fill him in on the details. Since their plane was supposed to be repaired by early morning, Hawk wouldn't spring for a commercial flight back to New York, telling them to enjoy their night off in San Francisco.

Gung Ho headed for a bar almost immediately, and Dial Tone went to catch up with an old ham-radio buddy who lived in the area. Flint was in the midst of growling parting warnings that anyone late back to the plane would have to walk home when Lifeline asked Lady Jaye where she wanted to spend the night.

Neither noticed the furious and pained stare directed their way.

"I think I'm going to catch a show," she said, pulling a colorful flyer from the wall. It was for a performance of _Cymbeline_ by an experimental theatrical company in the neighborhood. The idea sounded different enough to be entertaining, and, at this point, anything was better than dealing with a certain beret-topped walking bad mood.

"Do you like the theater? My sister did some back in Seattle. I never really got into it," Lifeline said, leaning over her shoulder to read the paper.

"Want to tag along?" she asked in a friendly tone. "I'm not sure if you'll like it. This show will probably be a bit, uh, different, shall we say."

"Just what kind of performance is it?" Flint demanded, snatching the flyer from her hand.

"Something cultural. You won't be interested," Jaye said shortly, finally fed up with his foul mood. "There's no sex in it."

The warrant officer ignored her comment as he stood up, but his expression made her feel like she'd just kicked his favorite puppy. "Let's go. The play starts soon."

She just stared at him, finally muttering something under her breath as she got up from the table. She made it halfway across the room before she stopped, turning around suddenly. Flint stepped back to avoid running into her.

"If you had let me do my job in the first place and gotten more Intel, we could have avoided this whole mess," she told him in a low voice that only emphasized her own anger. "And if you're still in so much pain, you shouldn't have gone on a mission."

Jaye headed for the door, trying to regain her cool. She felt for Flint; she truly did. His first mission in ages, and it was failing on every level, but he didn't have to take his frustrations out on everyone else! No, not on the others – on her; nothing she did was right. If she tried to talk to him, he barked. If she tried to talk to one of the other guys, he got angrier. Just what was his problem?

Lifeline followed her quickly, obviously trying to prevent the argument from escalating by changing the subject. "So, did you ever do any acting?"

"You could say that," she said. In truth, it was one of the things she missed the most from her old life. Cover Girl liked musicals and light comedies, and they sometimes caught a show, but there wasn't anyone on the team who knew theater well enough to have a serious discussion about it.

She started to offer more information when she noted Flint following right behind them, his expression upset. The last thing she wanted was for him to ruin the show by grousing through the whole thing. Lifeline picked up on her mood, and he used his Aikido skills to slip into the chair beside her, ignoring the warrant officer's evil glower as he was forced to take the aisle seat.

The medic tried to keep everything peaceful by talking about neutral subjects as they waited for the lights to go down. Lady Jaye appreciated his efforts and answered him lightly, something that seemed to only cause Flint to glare harder.

"Oh, for God's sake, Flint, the mission was scrubbed. Please take something for the pain before you give us all ulcers," she urged him quietly. "Some of us want to relax."

To her surprise, he mumbled, "Fine," and took the package of over-the-counter painkillers Lifeline pulled out of an inner pocket. He dry-swallowed a handful and slouched in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

Jaye tried to ignore him as she settled back to watch the performance, but every so often she caught him staring at her. Not knowing why he was acting the way he was – and no longer really caring why – she concentrated on the show, getting lost in the magic of the stage. It wasn't a great performance, but it was enough to distract her from the beret-wearing bear seething at her.

After the show, they headed to the lounge where they were to meet up with the others. On the way, she tried to talk to Lifeline about the show, but she could tell he was only being polite and hadn't enjoyed it. She didn't bother asking Flint, as his mood was obvious.

When the warrant officer went to find a payphone to check on the plane's repair status, Lady Jaye dropped Lifeline a hint that she wanted to be alone for a while, and he gave her a smile before leaving her table. She saw him run into Dial Tone as the radio expert entered the lounge, and the two left when the jazz group starting playing.

Nursing a drink, she tried to figure out why Flint was in such a bad temper. Pain was part of it, clearly, and she imagined frustration was taking its toll on him as well. To her growing consternation, she had a sinking feeling her behavior had played a key role, but she couldn't fathom what her transgression had been. It was hard to believe that he'd let their earlier differences of opinion about the mission affect his performance – he had picked her for the team, after all – but maybe he really thought they'd been laughing at him on the plane?

"Did you actually like that piece of shit?" Flint growled, surprising her as he dropped into the chair opposite her.

"I don't think I've ever heard anyone refer to Shakespeare as 'shit' before," she noted dryly, uncertain if she was up to dealing with him. If he had been offended, she'd apologize and let him know they hadn't been making fun of him on the flight out. Later – he had her nerves too frayed right now. They still had hours to wait for the plane, and she didn't relish the idea of listening to him complain the entire time.

He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed angrily over his chest. "Fine, did you like that godawful dreck that was set in modern times and used hideous dialogue?"

Truthfully, she had found the play lacking in many ways, although she'd understood what the theatrical company had attempted to accomplish. But there was no way in hell she was going to give Flint the satisfaction of admitting it hadn't lived up to her expectations.

"It needs some refinement in certain areas, but it has a lot of potential," she told him levelly.

"Huh!" he snorted derisively.

"I told you you wouldn't like it," she pointed out, mentally counting to ten to keep herself calm.

"But you thought Lifeline would?"

After rolling her eyes, she fixed him with a steady gaze. He was going too far now. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was actually_…_

_Jealous?_

Had that been his problem the entire trip? Did he really think she had been flirting with Lifeline? And what if she had? He had no claims on her, despite his exhaustive – and exhausting – attempts to bed her. She wasn't his personal toy.

Lady Jaye's first inclination was to add "possessiveness" to his list of personality flaws, but then it dawned on her that to be jealous, he actually _had_ to care, at least on some level. Why else would it bother him? And apparently it bothered him a lot.

"Stop being childish," she told him distractedly, trying to process this latest bit of information. If he acted this way when they weren't together, what would he be like if they were a couple?

_A purely hypothetical question,_ she quickly added to herself_._

"I'm not being childish!" he grumbled. "Why didn't you ask me to go with you?"

Jaye set her drink down and stared at him in open disbelief. Okay, so maybe he cared at some level, but take Mr. Brash-and-Crass to the theater? Besides, after his behavior today, the only place she'd wanted to take him was to the cleaners. "You have to be joking."

"I'm not."

"Why in God's name would I invite _you_ to see a Shakespearean play? Or 'that piece of shit', as you so _elegantly_ put it."

His obviously angry response died in his throat, and his head tilted as he stared at her. Flint's mouth slowly closed as confusion settled over his features, leaving Jaye feeling that she was missing some important piece of information.

Her discomfort grew, realizing that Flint really believed he'd been the logical choice for her to invite. Why he felt that way made no sense; he'd never once shown any interest in anything that could be even vaguely classified as cultural, but it was also clear that he was hurt that she hadn't asked him.

"Look, I love the theater. That wasn't the best performance I've seen, but I liked the play," she said, trying to restore the peace. "I really don't want to fight with you, but we're getting on each others' nerves today, so unless you can talk intelligently about the plot, I'd prefer it if you would please just go away."

"What plot? They butchered the story! They made Posthumus the villain, Iachimo the hero, and they completely cut Cloten out of the story. Don't even get me started on what they did to Imogen's character."

Lady Jaye felt her jaw drop. It was stunning enough to find out that he had stopped pouting long enough to pay attention to the play, but… he actually knew one of Shakespeare's more obscure works? Knew it well enough that he recognized the changes to the storyline? He had an impressive vocabulary, certainly, but this was an aspect of him that caught her by surprise.

What was even more amazing, Flint – a man fearless in the face of Cobra attacks – looked like he wanted to bolt as she continued to gape at him.

Closing her mouth, she watched as he glanced around nervously. Realizing that no one had overheard him, he relaxed slightly. For some reason, he didn't want the others to know that he was familiar with a Shakespearean play. The man bragged about everything else, but _this_ was something he kept hidden?

Now Flint had her complete attention.

"Did you get that they were trying to improve Imogen's characterization?" she prompted calmly, hoping to draw him into a conversation. He was actually wary, a fact that puzzled her. The man was usually so confident it was irritating; his behavior now was disconcerting.

Maybe she _was_ too defensive around Flint.

"Her character wasn't well-developed in the original play," she added when he remained quiet.

"None of the characters were," he mumbled under his breath.

Jaye signaled the waitress to bring him a drink and started discussing the play. For a long time, it was mainly one-sided, but he slowly started offering opinions. His dislike of the performance was real, not an angry byproduct of their earlier bickering. To her surprise, he knew the original as well as she did, if not better; he had a detailed understanding of the characters and plot, the themes and the imagery used in the play.

It didn't take her long to realize that his understanding was entirely literary; he wasn't familiar with theater conventions, and she began explaining the significance of the changes, what the director and writer had tried to do. The warrant officer asked a few astute questions, but he generally just nodded when she made a point.

They never reached an agreement on the play, but Flint was able to back up all the things he disliked with solid arguments. And he didn't seem upset that she didn't share his views; if anything, he seemed to enjoy the way she challenged his positions. It was turning into one of the best intellectual discussions she had had in ages, but she was still having a hard time believing with whom she was having it. "Flint" and "Shakespeare" were two words she never thought she'd use in the same sentence.

As they wound down their disagreement about the play, they settled into a battle of wits as they each tried to score the last points in the discussion. Gradually, they realized they were too evenly matched, and it became a mock-battle. Even more gradually, a gentle and timorous note of teasing slipped underneath their barbs.

Jaye found the change in the conversation's tenor perfectly natural, pleasantly noting how enjoyable Flint's company was away from military matters and just how handsome he really was. It was a reaction she wanted to attribute to the alcohol, but she was too honest to completely believe the self-delusion. She was also candid enough to admit that in different circumstances, their evening would have ended in a more personal manner.

Flint was getting in another playfully pointed dig about her taste in entertainment when a sudden voice caused them to start.

"I can't believe they're still fighting," Lifeline said from behind them, and they both turned to see the medic heading toward the bar, where Gung Ho and Dial Tone waited on the other side of the room.

Lady Jaye checked her watch, startled to realize she and Flint had been talking for hours, although the tabletop was littered with empty glasses and dishes from their snacking. From their looks, she suspected the others had overheard their verbal mêlée but had missed the flirtatious nature of the comments – a fact for which she was immensely grateful.

"Guess it's time to grab the guys and go," she said, a touch of regret in her voice. "Let's hope the flight back is better."

Pulling out his wallet, he signaled the waitress for their bill and grunted a non-committal response. He'd closed himself off again; for whatever reason, this wasn't a side he wanted the guys to know about. Jaye thought that was a shame – she enjoyed this aspect of his personality and wouldn't mind getting to see more of it.

Looking around to make sure the others were out of hearing distance, she turned to him with a gentle smile. "So, you actually have a brain."

He stared at her for a moment, his befuddled look slowly replaced by a crooked grin as he realized she was teasing him. Heading toward the door, he leaned his head close to hers and whispered suggestively, "Feel free to pick it whenever you want."

"Oh, shut up," Jaye said, shaking her head in amusement as she walked out beside him, never noticing that the rest of the team was watching them in confusion.

TBC

* * *

**A/N II:** There's been a death in the family, so the next part may take a little longer to get up. I'll try to get at least a short chapter done as soon as I can.


	5. Chapter 5

**A Book By Its Cover  
A/N: **Thanks to everyone for their condolences – it was appreciated greatly – and sorry for the delay in getting this chapter posted. Thanks also to TiamatV and VR Trakowski for the beta service; any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except a pair of cats, and they'll argue about who really owns whom.

* * *

**  
Chapter 5**

As they boarded the cargo plane to head back to New York, Lady Jaye tried to come to terms with her evening with Flint. For all that it had been unofficial, unplanned and unexpected, it had also undeniably been a date – a wonderful one at that, once they'd stopped their bickering.

They had shared a definite connection there, one that transcended the obvious mutual physical attraction. And for all his secretiveness about his Shakespearean knowledge, it was something Flint had been willing to share with her, something that wasn't just a new tactic to bed her. Despite his other annoying tendencies, he wasn't duplicitous; if he was showing this side of himself, it was because he trusted her.

Not that she had a clue – yet – as to how he came about his familiarity with the play or why he felt the need to keep it quiet, but she recognized the significance of his gesture. It was an unexpected facet to him, but also one that meant more to her than all his heavy-handed innuendos and crass compliments.

It was the type of emotional honesty she'd doubted he had possessed at first, but Flint was slowly letting her see beyond his egocentric bluster. And the more she saw, the more Jaye realized he was someone to whom she could easily get attached.

_Too easily_, she realized, watching as he made sure everything was ready for their takeoff. She was too honest to try to deny that the big goofball had grown on her, or that she already cared for him and wanted to get even closer.

Nor did she know how to proceed; all the obstacles to having some sort of personal relationship still remained. Even if he understood the meaning of subtle, they had no privacy, and his apparent tendency to turn into a testosterone-addled troglodyte whenever another guy showed an interest in her was an added complication.

She didn't have time to dwell on her concerns, though, as Lifeline immediately asked Jaye about her acting background as he plopped down on the bench beside her. Surprisingly, Dial Tone and Gung Ho seemed interested as well. Flint's eyes narrowed as the others took seats around her, and she shot back her own warning glare; he was pushing the limits of her newfound fondness with his jealousy.

With an impatient grunt, he sat down a short distance away, pulling out a clipboard and presumably working on his mission report. Lady Jaye was certain he was keeping close tabs on their conversation, and when the chance came to confirm her suspicions, she readily jumped on it.

She had just finished telling the guys how she had friends film her stage performances whenever possible, so she'd be able to critique her work later. Dial Tone started laughing, joking, "It's a good thing Shipwreck isn't here! He'd be trying to get you to admit that you did nude scenes!"

"What makes you think I haven't?" Lady Jaye answered, clandestinely glancing in Flint's direction. "I'm comfortable with my body, and I'm not what you'd call inhibited."

To her delight, the pen in Flint's hand froze in mind-stroke, and his grip was probably tight enough to dent the metal barrel. He didn't look up, but kept his stare focused on the clipboard in his lap.

Her statement had a similar response on the other guys, none of whom would meet her eyes and who were all noticeably trying not to stare at her cleavage. Standing up to rig her hammock, she kept her amusement to herself.

"It's late, and I'm tired. I think I'm going to take a nap," she said, and the others hastily agreed, disappearing into different parts of the cargo hold.

After they were gone, she turned back to Flint, who slowly looked up. From his expression, she gathered he couldn't decide whether her comments had left him amused, annoyed or aroused. Giving him a coquettish smile, she settled back into the swaying mesh and closed her eyes.

Once they landed, Flint hung back to make sure all their gear had been gathered, slowly making his way towards her side. "You are a minx, aren't you?" he whispered, and his husky tone convinced her he had finally settled on "aroused".

"You shouldn't eavesdrop. It's not an endearing trait."

"This coming from a covert-ops specialist!"

"Yes," she said, flashing him an amused smile. "I know how to do it without being obvious."

Flint laughed softly, keeping close to her and his voice low. "So, that was all for my benefit. You never did any nude scenes."

"Oh, I didn't say that."

His eyes slowly blinked. "So, the films don't really exist?"

"I didn't say that, either," she teased as she walked towards the exit, giving him a mock-glare over her shoulder. "And if you dare ask if can have one of those videotapes, I _will_ hurt you."

"I wouldn't do something like that," Flint said, making an attempt to sound insulted.

"Really?"

"Of course not. I was thinking a personal performance was in order," he said, laughing as she turned around to face him with a sharp look. "I definitely got the impression you enjoyed our theatrical discussion earlier. I'd love to give you a private review."

"In your dreams!"

"All the time. Great dreams, too" he said, nodding his head enthusiastically before grinning at her. "Are you worried the reality won't live up to them?"

Too amused to scowl effectively, she pointed at him as she walked backwards down the plane's rear ramp. "You're going to pay for that, jackass."

"Now, what did I do to deserve that type of welcome?" came Scarlett's voice from behind her. Spinning around, she saw her bunkmate with her hair up, wearing her Class A uniform and with two bags draped over her shoulder.

"Oh, sorry, didn't see you there."

"Most people don't have eyes in the back of their head," the redhead said dryly, glancing at Flint as he walked away to join Hawk on the tarmac. "Is he still causing trouble?"

"Flint? That was nothing. What's up?" Jaye asked as she was steered onto another plane.

"European vacation. I'll fill you in while you change," Scarlett said, tossing her one of the bags.

Their 'vacation' consisted of posing as secretaries as they accompanied Hawk to a NATO conference at The Hague, following a CIA tip that Cobra planned to disrupt the meeting. After three days, they not only succeeded in capturing the Cobra spy, but they also uncovered a Soviet agent who was creating mischief by deliberately mistranslating documents.

Pleased with their results, Hawk treated them to a gourmet dinner before Scarlett left to join Snake Eyes and Storm Shadow on an intelligence-gathering mission in Trans-Carpathia. When she arrived back at headquarters, Jaye discovered Flint was on his own mission, leading a series of coordinated raids on Cobra front operations set up along the Mexican border.

Stifling a yawn, she headed to the command center to finish her report before turning in for the night. She was partway there when Duke leaned out of his office and called her over.

"Great job at The Hague," he said, surprising her by closing the office door after she entered.

"Thanks," she said cautiously when he took a seat on the corner of his desk. As top sergeant, Duke had many duties, including acting as the equivalent of camp counselor to their motley collection of misfits. While he was good at that job, it wasn't his favorite responsibility, and he now wore the strained look he had whenever he had to deal with someone's personal problems.

"We're really happy with the work you've been doing."

Lady Jaye bobbed her head. "I'm glad my work is satisfactory. If there's something I can do to improve my performance, let me know."

"No, no, relax. This is nothing like that. We want to make sure you're happy here on the team."

"What makes you think I'm not?" she asked in confusion.

"You're not, er, you are?" he responded, equally mystified.

"A billet with a real bed would be nice, but I'm not holding out hope for that. I don't have any complaints."

"Oh." Duke scratched his head, eyeing her carefully. After a long moment, he leaned forward. "Look, Flint is my friend from way back, but I know he can be a bit, uh, much to deal with at times."

"That's true," she said, smiling wryly.

"If you're having issues, it's my job to resolve them. It doesn't matter if he's my friend or not."

"We're not having any issues, at least none that I know of. Has he complained about my performance?" she asked in disbelief.

"No."

"I appreciate the concern, but I don't understand what you're worried about," Jaye admitted. "We work well together."

He gave her a level look. "Your definition of working well includes fighting?"

"Oh, that," she said, remembering how Duke had looked in during their disagreement about the San Francisco mission. "Flint and I both have strong opinions, and we're forthright in how we express ourselves. It's nothing personal."

"Right," he said slowly. "And what about the fact he was chewing your ass during the entire San Francisco mission?"

Years of training let Lady Jaye keep her expression neutral as she thought frantically. Damn Flint's jealousy – how the hell was she going to explain what really had happened? Fraternization regulations were clear-cut, and – as the higher ranking of the two of them – the onus was on him to keep things in line. He could be court-martialed for his behavior, and, after that last night, she wasn't exactly an innocent bystander.

"Sir?" she said blankly, stalling for time.

"Drop the act, lady. I was doing the dumb soldier routine before you had your first kiss. And you can't pull it off with someone who knows how smart you really are," he ordered sternly.

Jaye rolled her shoulders, deciding on a partial truth. "Flint was in pain. I realized he'd hurt his leg on the flight out, and I put myself in a position to try to get him calmed down. As you know, that usually works. It didn't this time."

"That's funny," Duke said, nothing humorous in his tone. "I was on a mission with him where he had been shot, broke his arm in two places and had a bad reaction to a spider bite, and he never lost his cool."

"He was probably worried Doc would bench him behind a desk for the next six months. That's what I would do if he'd kept pestering _me_ for active duty clearance," she offered hastily.

To her surprise, Duke nearly smiled at her remark, but he quickly recovered.

"Oh, that's a very real possibility, but it won't be Doc who'd be responsible," he said, giving her a calculating look. "Look, neither one of you is in trouble. Relax if that's what's worrying you. You don't have to cover for him."

"I'm not," she said, too concerned about Flint to worry about the lie – or that her natural inclination had been to protect him. Her lips twitched as Duke tilted his head to give her a disbelieving stare. "Not really. I'm not sure what else to tell you, Top. I don't have a problem with the way he acted. If I did, don't you think I'd approach you about it?"

"Hell, no!" he said, finally flashing her a grin. "For the same reason none of you gals ever complain about Clutch's sexual harassment. You all think no one will take your abilities seriously if you can't handle a moronic mechanic."

She gave him a conceding shrug of her shoulders; most of the guys respected the female Joes, but there were a few who had their doubts. Those guys would never believe they could handle Cobra if they complained about a fellow team member.

"Apparently, at least one of my teammates has doubts about my abilities. Did the snitch tell you that I gave Flint as good as I got?"

"Sheathe your claws, although I'm glad to hear it. I was getting worried. I thought you'd gone soft on me. None of the other team members said anything to me directly, but the story's gotten around. I also know that some of the guys have a – let's call it a chivalrous nature," he said with a small smile. "But something happened to start these stories."

"He was hurt and grumpy, and I chose to act like a buffer. He was fine once the mission was scrubbed, and he took something for the pain."

"The story is Flint was still fighting with you at the end of the night."

"We weren't fighting. We were having a disagreement."

"Save the linguistic hair-splitting for someone with more patience," Duke groaned.

Jaye silently weighed her options. Flint hadn't wanted the others to know about his Shakespearean knowledge, and she didn't want to betray his trust. But she had to tell him something. "Flint, Lifeline and I caught a play that night. I liked it, Flint hated it, and that's what we were talking about. It wasn't a fight."

"You took Flint to see a play?" he repeated, eyeing her carefully. "And he talked about it?"

"We had to do _something_ to kill the time," she pointed out.

Duke was silent for a long moment before he letting out a quick laugh. "I'm not even going to touch that statement."

For the first time since entering his office, Jaye started to relax. "Flint and I work well together. We're also the two most temperamental people on the team – sparks are going to fly at times. I meant what I said earlier. It's like _…_ we let off steam. We're not really angry with each other. There's nothing personal about it."

"From where I sit, I think it's very _personal_," he said knowingly.

"Sir?"

Duke gave her a shrewd look. "I know Flint thinks he's Don Frickin' Juan, and that he's been hounding you since he got here. I don't get why."

Lady Jaye slowly raised an eyebrow as she stared at him.

"I mean, I get _why_," he said, waving his hands to indicate her body, causing her eyebrow to arch up higher. "Oh, knock it off, Miss Nude Movies. Yeah, I heard about that; I told the guys that was something they didn't need to keep sharing, but there's no way that's going to remain a secret."

"Duke, if it bothered me, I wouldn't have done the scenes in the first place, let alone have them filmed or talked about them," she said. "I don't care if people know about the videotapes."

"I wasn't worried about you. I don't want fifty guys spending all their time obsessing over it! It's bad enough when they manage to find one of Cover Girl's old lingerie spreads," he growled. "And nice attempt at changing the subject. I meant Flint usually takes a hint when he's not welcome. Do you want me to tell him to back off?"

"I'd prefer to handle him myself, sir."

"I was afraid you were going to say that," he sighed after a long pause, getting off his desk and walking around to his chair. "But I'm warning you – if Hawk has to get involved, it's not going to be pretty. For either of you."

"Yes, sir," she said carefully, wondering if she was imagining his implication.

"Get out of here and get some sleep, soldier. You can do your report in the morning."

"Goodnight."

Leaving his office, she stared in confusion over her shoulder as she headed towards her barracks. Duke had offered – unofficially – to put pressure on Flint to back off. But there was no way the beret-clad knucklehead would have ignored a direct order from Hawk to leave her alone _…_ which meant that no official move had been made to get him to stop.

But there were no secrets in the Pit – if Duke knew about his advances, so did Hawk, and both of them appeared to be willing to let her handle the situation on her own. Did that mean the general was willing to turn a blind eye on them, if they kept things discreet?

More importantly, was it worth the risk? There had been no doubt about the seriousness of Duke's parting warning. There was going to be hell to pay if they got involved and things went badly.

Who was she kidding? They weren't even together yet, and their behavior was attracting attention. With their respective tempers, it was a disaster waiting to happen.

But _…_ the temptation was there, too strong to ignore even if was it foolish to consider it.

She needed to talk to Flint, privately, but as soon as he'd finished his mission along the border, he was sent off to test some equipment modifications on the armored vehicles. In the meantime, she had friendly – albeit extremely pointed – conversations with Gung Ho, Lifeline and Dial Tone about letting her fight her own battles.

The rest of the week passed in relative peace. It was one of the rare occasions when headquarters was nearly deserted; most of the team was on missions, on leave, or out on training exercises, and Cover Girl had commandeered the television to watch a broadcast of _My Fair Lady_.

Jaye reluctantly joined her, only paying partial attention to the movie as she translated a notebook recovered from a South American mission. So far, it contained nothing but random bits of useless information, but she wasn't going to take a chance on overlooking something valuable in all the flotsam. It didn't help that the writer's hideous penmanship and spelling errors were giving her a headache.

She was flipping through a heavy reference book when someone collapsed onto the sofa arm closest to where she was sitting. Glancing up, she couldn't hide her smirk; Flint's whole body was covered in grime and muck. "Did you get any rain while you were gone?" she asked innocently.

"A deluge of biblical proportions and it never let up. I lost track of how many times we had to dig the Mauler out of the mud. The left track kept acting up, something with the drive sprocket," he said, directing his last comment to Cover Girl.

"I guess I know what we'll be doing tomorrow in the motor pool."

"I thought you were fluent in Russian," Flint said when Lady Jaye shifted a stack of paperwork to pick up a thick dictionary.

"I am. It doesn't mean I know every word," she said, a touch irately. "You speak English well, but would you know what _…_ 'allodoxaphobia' means?"

"'Allo' denotes others, 'doxa' means opinion – a fear of what other people think?"

Cover Girl snickered softly into her soda, pretending – poorly – to be interested in an insurance commercial.

"I see your etymological skills are excellent," she admitted grudgingly, "but my point is still valid. Besides, word meanings change over time. 'Terrible' comes logically from terror, but how do you define 'terrific' then?"

"You," he said, flashing her a lopsided grin.

Jaye felt her blush rising, elbowing Cover Girl's ribs sharply as the tank driver's sniggering got louder. "So you think I inspire terror?" she asked softly, finally turning to him in amusement.

"It wouldn't be hard to find some Cobras who feel that way." He waited until she smiled, then added, "And I have seen the way you drive. Ouch!"

"Sorry, the dictionary slipped."

"I already you said you were terrific; you don't have to terrorize me," Flint chuckled, leaning over to see what she was working on. "What's with all the doodles?'

"It's called handwriting," Lady Jaye teased back. "It's bad enough that half the letters in Russian cursive are virtually identical, but this guy's handwriting sucks."

He let out a sympathetic grunt as he rested against her shoulder to look closer at the illegible squiggles on the page. "Do you want me to get on the horn with the NSA? This type of stuff is their bailiwick."

"I'm almost done, and so far the most exciting thing I've found out is the guy's mother-in-law sings like a drunken moose."

Cover Girl hushed them as the commercials ended, but Flint looked around the room. "Is Roadblock here? I'm starving."

"He has actual duties, you know. Besides, he's out on a mission."

"Did he leave any food in the fridge?"

The tank driver reached over her friend to slam the bowl of popcorn into Flint's stomach. He started wolfing it down before pausing to offer some to Lady Jaye. Her eyes moved meaningfully to his dirty hands in the bowl and back to his face. Shrugging sheepishly, he returned to shoveling handfuls into his mouth, finally turning his attention to the movie. After a minute, he gave her a disappointed sigh and got up to leave.

"Don't you like theatrical productions?" Jaye asked with a mischievous grin.

"This is stupid," he said, ignoring the half-mumbled threats about the pair of them getting run over by a Wolverine as he left the room.

"Next, on Mutual of Omaha's _Wild Kingdom_, the mating ritual of the overeducated army-cock," Cover Girl choked out between laughs, darting her eyes slyly toward her companion. "I guess it was just a lovers' spat then."

"We're not _…_ argh," Lady Jaye growled, focusing her attention on her translation work. "I thought you wanted to watch the movie."

"Please, this is a lot more entertaining. Spill the dirt. I can't believe you haven't killed him."

"What did you hear?" she asked resignedly.

"That you two had a hell of a fight, and he was giving you grief the whole mission."

"If they think _that_ was a fight, they've never seen me mad," she said shortly. "He was grumpy, that's all. It's been blown out of proportion, and it's no one else's business."

"If you think things are bad now, just wait until Scarlett gets back and hears the story," Cover Girl said wickedly.

Lady Jaye let out a groan. Scarlett was a good friend, and she cared for her deeply. For all her well-earned badass reputation, the redhead also had a soft spot for those she allowed to be friends. Shana watched out for them and was always ready to offer a helping hand.

But her self-appointed overprotective sibling from hell also had an annoying tendency of deciding that her friends' problems were her business and intervening, usually coercing Snake Eyes into her busybody plans.

Not that Jaye thought the pair of martial artists would actually _do_ anything to Flint.

Probably not.

At least nothing more than being excessively demonstrative during a hand-to-hand combat lesson.

Certainly nothing that would cause him permanent injury.

Still, the idea that the team's two deadliest members weren't going to be thinking kindly about Flint was more worrisome than the very real possibility of his getting in trouble for his jealousy-fueled behavior earlier.

"We're supposed to be the world's elite anti-terrorist organization," Jaye said tersely. "Surely, there have to be better things to talk about other than the fact that both Flint and I have tempers."

"You'd think, wouldn't you? But we don't."

She let out a sigh as she shuffled through her notes. "Don't you have a social life of your own to worry about?"

"Nope. I'm living vicariously through your licentious lifestyle," Courtney answered dryly, turning around on the sofa to face her.

"You have got to stop reading Scarlett's romance novels," Lady Jaye griped. "No one uses 'licentious' in real life."

"Hey, those books are the closest I'm getting to any action."

"I've offered to introduce you to Flint. Trust me, if the man can keep up with his mouth, you'll get all the action you want."

"Like you're not interested in some action," the ex-model teased. "You were getting into him. What's the matter? Saving yourself for marriage?"

"That boat has already sailed," Jaye chortled, "more than once."

"I guess he isn't rich enough for you."

She eyed Cover Girl levelly, knowing it was a deliberate goad but still feeling the sting through the joking. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Please, I've seen your civvies," she stated firmly. "Chanel, Versace, Paciotti. You can't afford a single Louis Vuitton handbag on an army salary, and you have how many?"

Jaye shrugged her shoulders; if there was something Cover Girl knew better than diesel mechanics and tank operation, it was luxury goods. "If I gave a damn about any of that, do you think I'd have joined the army? I have enough money for the rest of my life, and I'm _definitely_ not looking for a man to provide for me."

"Afraid your parents will disown you if you bring him home for Christmas dinner?"

She actually laughed at that suggestion. Her parents notoriously got along with people. They could be trapped in a dank cell with Deep Six and Beach Head, and by the end of the first course of raw cockroaches, they'd have gotten the life stories out of her teammates and have invited them to the Vineyard for a week of sailing.

And the two least social Joes _would_ accept _and_ enjoy themselves.

Besides, she suspected there were times after contentious board or council meetings that her parents wanted to get in touch with their own inner-Flints and let loose. They'd probably find him refreshing, if not downright amusing.

"Flint wouldn't faze them. They'd be surprised; he's not like anyone I've been involved with before."

"Yeah, like any of those other guys ever worked out," Cover Girl said with a snort. "You're obviously still available."

It was true that none of her prior relationships had worked out, but it didn't mean she had to like her friend's tone. Dropping her head, her voice was soft and sorrowful when she spoke. "No, none of them really did. Except for Lawrence."

"Lawrence?" the tank driver asked cautiously.

"Our families were neighbors when we kids. We were inseparable. Everyone assumed we'd get married, including us. Then he developed leukemia in college," she said, sniffling as she shook her head. "It looked like he'd beaten it. He was in remission, and, and then _…_"

"Shit," Courtney said sharply, slipping to the floor in front of Jaye and grabbing her hands. "Oh, Christ. I'm so sorry, Alison. I didn't know. I didn't mean anything by it, honestly."

"… and then he got hit by the meteorite," Lady Jaye finished, looking up with a wicked gleam in her eye.

Cover Girl leaned back and threw her hands up. "You lying, evil bitch!"

"It's called acting."

"If you wanted me to back off, all you had to do was say something."

"I just did!" she laughed, fending off the playful slaps the ex-model directed her way.

"I'm only trying to help," Courtney grumbled as she stood up. "You know, you might actually like Flint if you gave him a chance."

"Liking him isn't the problem," Jaye admitted with a sigh. "I already like him. Enough that it's heading toward more-than-liking him."

"Really?" Cover Girl asked. "You're not pulling my leg again?"

"No," she said sadly, giving her head a rueful shake. "He's going to end up as one of my best friends – if I don't kill him first."

"How is that a bad thing?"

"All he wants is some fun," she said reluctantly. "I'm not sure I could have a physical relationship with Flint without falling for him. I don't know if I want to risk the heartbreak on the off-chance that he'll decide later that he wants more than sex."

"Well, that's _…_ shit."

"Tell me about it," Lady Jaye said, gathering up her translation efforts.

"Have you talked to him? Let him know what's going on?"

She chuckled lightly. "Somehow, I don't think telling Flint that I like him will discourage him."

Cover Girl rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. "What are you going to do then?"

"I don't know if I have to do anything. He's going to get tired soon enough and move on."

"Is that what you want?" she asked softly.

"In a perfect world, no," Lady Jaye said unhappily, grabbing the rest of her materials and getting up. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"He's probably fixing something to eat."

After putting her work away, she strolled toward the mess hall lost in thought. Courtney had been right about one thing – none of her prior relationships had worked out before, and Jaye knew she bore equal responsibility for how those ended. While her temper usually burnt out quickly, it had destroyed more than a few bridges along the way. She also refused to hide her intelligence or suppress her own opinions, facts that had driven some former lovers away.

But what she told Duke earlier was true as well; she and Flint never stayed mad at each other, and his temper was even worse than hers. As for her intelligence, Flint delighted in challenging her, and he'd certainly never respect her if she backed down from her principles. In a lot of ways, he was a good match, and she was finding his bravado more entertaining than annoying these days.

Leaning against the mess hall doorframe, Lady Jaye watched Flint fiddling with something in a frying pan. She really _could_ fall for the big dummy. The potential for something really good was there.

So was the potential for trouble.

"Have you talked to Duke yet?" she asked, and he looked around in surprise.

"He gave me hell for an hour or two," he said, flipping a pair of grilled cheese sandwiches onto a stack already on his plate. Moving to the table, he indicated the empty chair, and she came to join him, shaking her head when he offered her a sandwich.

"You're not taking any of this seriously," she said in disappointment.

"I am, but Duke has more bark than bite. Everything is fine."

"I don't intend to make a habit of covering for you."

He frowned as he got up to retrieve two glasses of iced tea. "How did you cover for me? You told him the truth – I was in pain and let it get in the way of my performance."

"Right, and jealousy had nothing to do with it," she said, rolling her eyes when he shifted uncomfortably.

"Did you give up on the movie?"

Jaye watched him carefully for a moment, finally deciding to let him change the subject. "I've seen it more than once."

"And here I thought you had good taste," Flint said.

"Oh, that's right. Your _insightful_ commentary was that it's 'stupid.' What part? That Rex Harrison spoke all his lyrics, or that they had to dub all of Audrey Hepburn's singing?"

"That Eliza returned to Higgins," he said, looking up with a crooked grin. "She's supposed to marry Freddie."

"What?" Jaye looked at him curiously; he'd completely missed that part of the movie.

Flint watched her levelly for a moment, and she again got the impression she was missing something about him. He was also undeniably smug looking. "Eliza was supposed to marry Freddie."

"They changed it in the play, and the movie kept the same ending."

His grin widened. "You mean they changed it in the musical. She didn't go back to him in the play. George Bernard Shaw even published an epilogue detailing why it was totally out-of-character for Eliza to return to Higgins. One of the main points of the story was her growing independence. He felt it demeaned her character to have her go back to a judgmental misanthrope, no matter how much literary conventions and audiences wanted a 'happy' ending."

"You've read _Pygmalion_?" she asked, a smile forming as she looked at him in surprise.

Before he could answer, Duke walked in, equally covered in mud, and Flint leaned back suddenly. "Am I interrupting anything?" the sergeant asked, glancing between the two of them.

"Flint was just telling me about the troubles with the Mauler," Lady Jaye said easily, noticing the way the warrant officer's posture relaxed.

"God, that was a mess," Duke said, joining them at the table and helping himself to the sandwiches. For a long time, she wondered if their top sergeant was intentionally keeping them from being alone, but he eventually left for a shower after they finished off the food.

When he was gone, Flint gave her a small, grateful nod, quickly turning his attention back to his last bits of crust.

"It must have been humiliating," she said jokingly, but the way he darted his eyes made her wonder if she'd accidentally touched on something. "How many people get buried in a library?"

"What?"

"Shakespeare, Shaw – you obviously got buried under the 'SHA' shelf in a library," Jaye continued, deliberately keeping her tone light. There was no doubt about it now; he had a side that he was only willing to share with her. And as touched as she was by his trust, it saddened her that for some reason he felt the need to hide this part of himself.

Flint was still for a long moment before chuckling quietly as he raided the fridge for some fruit.

"Of course, I think the others already realize you know how to read. They did let you into Flight Warrant Officer School, and I'm pretty sure literacy is a requirement."

"Amongst other things," he said, clearly enjoying her teasing.

"I guess the real mystery is how you got stuck in that library," she said, hoping to draw him into a discussion. He had that look again – like she shouldn't be stunned by his literary knowledge.

Flint walked behind her, pausing to bend over her chair. "You're supposed to be Intel. You figure it out," he said seductively, his breath warm on her neck. Before she had time to do more than inhale sharply, he gave her a mock-salute and left the room.

Once he was gone, Lady Jaye dropped her head onto the table and let out a long, quiet multilingual string of expletives. What was she doing? If she wasn't going to risk taking him as a lover, she had to stop encouraging him – not that she had intended to be anything other than friendly, but the man turned everything into a sexual advance.

Letting out a sigh, she headed for her barracks, but it was a long time before she was able to fall asleep, wondering why the more she learned about Flint, the more questions she had.

An answer of sorts came a few days later. Part of the problem with being a self-sufficient unit was that the team had to do _everything_, so everyone had at least one other duty besides fighting Cobra. In her case, she was a personnel clerk, helping Duke with the never-ending paperwork. Every so often, she had to spend a day filing citation reports, performing proficiency reviews, processing leave requests and other mind-numbing sacrifices to the gods of bureaucracy.

The boredom was usually broken by Alpine, the team's mountain-climbing accountant, who kept them all entertained as he openly speculated on various expense reports filed by teams on missions. He'd just finished a rather risqué scenario on why Beach Head had needed six cans of vegetable shortening and twelve bicycle tire repair kits when she went to the file cabinets and spotted Flint's name.

Duke had processed the warrant officer's transfer to the team, and she had never had a need to review his file. Curious, she pulled out his folder, quickly rifling through the pages. Not surprisingly, he placed top in all his training classes – a fact about which he had readily boasted. She wasn't shocked to find out he'd graduated with honors from Kansas State, nor did the knowledge that he'd gone on to be a Rhodes Scholar astonish her – even at his most annoying, she had always readily recognized his brilliance.

What did make catch her attention was his major – English Literature. Technical analysis of sentence structure only took you so far. To be successful in that field, you had to be able to relate to the human condition, to understand the emotions invoked by the work. And Flint had been more than successful if he'd made it through Oxford.

Her egocentric, blustering, tough-as-nails lunkhead had a sensitive side!

Grinning slightly at the revelation and quietly speculating on the implications, she jumped when Hawk barged out his office, his face grim, and she returned the folder surreptitiously when he focused on her.

"Lady Jaye, get in here. I've got a mission for you."

_TBC_

* * *

**A/N II**: Mutual of Omaha's _Wild Kingdom_ was a very popular nature documentary that ran from the 60s through the 80s.

**A/N III**: The idea of Jaye having done nude scenes was totally inspired by TiamatV's _Career Choices_. I highly recommend it if you haven't read it yet.


	6. Chapter 6

**A Book By Its Cover  
A/N:**.Thanks to VR Trakowski and TiamatV for looking this chapter over. All remaining mistakes are all mine – I'm greedy that way.**  
Disclaimer:** I own nothing except a pair of cats, and they'll argue about who really owns whom.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

General Hawk didn't say anything else about the mission until their jet was airborne, handing her the sealed orders with a forbidding expression. As Lady Jaye pulled out maps, passports and other documents, he sat back in his chair and let out a long breath.

"It's a spook operation gone bad. They need someone to go in and fix their screw-up," he said without preamble. "A breakaway faction tried to initiate a revolution in the Baltic regions. The KGB got to them quickly – and quietly – but not soon enough."

"What makes this group so special?" she asked. Ethnic tensions in the Soviet Union were more common than was widely known, but it wasn't something that typically required action from the United States – especially not from the Joes.

"This faction had the support of several high-ranking scientists from the Soviet's chemical warfare operations. To raise funds, they offered to sell biological weapon technology to a Middle Eastern terrorist group backed by an oil-rich dictator."

He nodded knowingly when her head snapped up. "They'd pay any price for that type of information," she said slowly. "Or go to any length to retrieve it."

"Exactly."

"Did they get the information to the terrorists?"

"We don't know. That's where you come in. A CIA agent infiltrated the dissenters, but he's disappeared. Our spooks don't think the KGB got to him, and they're certain no one's gotten his microfilm with the details of the operation. You need to get that film."

"Before the KGB, the October Guard, the Estonian secret police, the dissenters or the terrorists find it," Jaye said sardonically as she began to memorize the maps of the region. "Simple enough."

In reality, getting the microfilm turned out to be fairly straightforward: Once the plane landed in Berlin, she adopted the role of a sympathetic French academic and crossed into East Germany. A rough train ride took her to the industrial city of Dvrok on the border of the Estonian Soviet Socialist Republic.

She checked into the same hotel for foreign visitors where the CIA agent had been staying. Using a phrase book and broken Russian, Jaye told the morose workers how wonderful their lives were. This had the dual effect of them generally leaving her alone and not hesitating to speak openly in front of her, thinking she couldn't understand the language, and it didn't take long for her to learn the location of the agent's room.

Disguising herself as part of the hotel cleaning staff, she went to the agent's floor. Not surprisingly, a police officer guarded one of the doors, and she made her way to it slowly, cleaning as she went. When the pudgy, middle-aged man leered at her, she smiled bashfully at him, already formulating a plan to get into the room. Exaggerating the sway of her hips, she knew he was watching her the entire time she dusted the pictures on the walls.

Later that night, she returned carrying a plate. "I brought you a snack," she told him shyly. "You work so hard."

"And do you want to give me a reward?"

Dropping her head, she pulled a flask from her pocket, batting her eyes as she handed it to him. "I thought you would like this."

"Good vodka, not the stuff we get," he said, wiping his hand across his mouth. "Have a drink with me?"

"I can't. If the matron finds out I took the vodka, I'll get into trouble," she said, daintily nibbling one of the slices of black bread smeared with lard that he offered her.

"I can protect you _…_ if you make it worth my while," he said, reaching out to start unbuttoning her top.

Giggling, she playfully slapped his hand but made no real move to stop him. "Silly. That's why I brought you the vodka. I thought a strong man like you could handle it."

Smiling at her challenge, he took another long draw from the flask. "Would you like to see what else I can handle?"

"Oh, yes," she sighed, slipping her arms around his neck. A smile formed when he paused unsteadily, his eyes rolling back in his head. Jaye shifted her grip, lowering him back into the chair and grabbing the flask of drugged alcohol before it fell.

It only took her a minute to pick the lock to the hotel room, and she immediately knew the KGB hadn't been involved with the agent's disappearance – the room had been torn apart, with bloodstains and gray matter staining the walls – clear work of amateurs.

She returned to the hallway, replacing the flask with a nearly empty one containing plain vodka. Wrinkling her nose in disgust at his body odor, she undid the guard's fly. "It was good for me, too, pig," she muttered before heading to the service stairwell.

On the third floor landing, she found the electrical access panel mentioned in her mission papers. A few minutes work with a screwdriver loosened the cover, and she pulled out the microfilm hidden within, pocketing it and replacing the panel.

Making her way back to her own room, she quickly changed clothes again, this time adopting the steel-blue uniform of a local factory worker. Just before dawn, she quietly slipped out of the hotel and made her way to the town square. Her contact would be there every day this week, mingling with the crowds of workers heading to and from the factories.

The plan was for her to slip him the microfilm and then retrace her steps out of the country. But a sense of foreboding grew as she paused at a memorial located on a slight rise, offering her a view of the square. Pretending to be one of the visiting widows, Jaye cautiously watched the scene below her.

Something was wrong - very, very wrong.

People always assumed her skills in languages and acting contributed to her success in covert operations, but it went beyond that. When she took on a role, she _became_ the person she played; every detail was perfect – the right inflection to the voice, the mannerisms, the body language. It had taken her years to master those skills, and one of the side effects was an increased awareness of fakery in others, the ability recognize the small telltale signs of forced behavior.

And all of her senses were screaming that something was off in the town square. It was almost instinctual, and her mind worked frenetically to put her concerns into some tangible form.

The presence of soldiers in the area wasn't too surprising; there'd be extra military personnel in the area until the government was certain it had crushed the uprising. Nor was the palpable surly body language of the citizens unexpected; the KGB was effective because it was ruthless.

She doubted anyone was looking for her; the police officer should have come-to hours before his replacement arrived, and it would be hours longer before he found out that no one matching her description worked at the hotel. Even then, he wasn't likely to admit to getting drunk on the job.

Jaye dropped her head as a uniformed ruffian approached her, and she muttered an old Orthodox prayer. The guard spat in her general direction, but he otherwise ignored the small cluster of widows around the memorial. She watched as he swaggered off, and she snapped her head back toward the square.

There were the typical crowds of workers heading to the factories and the night shift leaving to go to the bars. But there were other clusters of men wandering around the main roads, moving neither toward nor away from the factories. Focusing on one group, it didn't take long to spot a young man turning around with the precision of a military march; the others with him were young, fit and eager – a stark contrast to the typical workers.

It was a trap – they knew someone was supposed to meet with her contact, and the main intersections were being guarded by poorly disguised soldiers.

Jaye got up, trying to think of a way to warn her contact when screaming broke out. A woman, jostled by the crowds, had bumped into her nervous contact, and one of the young soldiers had pulled an automatic pistol from under his jacket. That prompted his colleagues to do the same, and her contact bolted, falling under a hail of bullets.

The soldiers by the memorial ran to help their colleagues as a riot broke out, and Lady Jaye disappeared into the crowd of women running for cover. She jumped a railing along the hillside and disappeared into a drainage culvert, gasping at the smell of industrial waste and raw sewage. Getting on her belly, she wiggled her way toward the distant opening. It emptied into a small gully, and she crawled through it, heading towards the forest outside of town.

Once in the woods, she paused in the undergrowth and carefully looked around. So far, no one was following her, and – with luck – it would take the KGB hours before it realized she hadn't been part of the crowd in the square. Frowning, she tried to locate landmarks, mentally recalling the maps of the region.

There was a safe house only fifteen miles away from her hotel and the border was only five miles beyond that. But her escape route had taken her to the opposite side of the city, and the roads were too dangerous for her to travel now. It was possible to reach the safe house by taking a circuitous route through the woods and across a bog, but it was going to be a long trip.

"Better than running into anyone," she said to herself, setting out on a ground-covering pace through the trees.

If the terrorists found her, she'd be lucky to die outright. The secret police wanted her alive, but considering how they treated their "guests," that wasn't exactly a comforting thought. The American government would arrange a trade for her freedom – eventually – but the microfilm wouldn't be part of the deal, and they needed that to learn how much information the terrorists had gotten.

Dashing through the woods, she occasionally moved close enough to the road to keep her bearings, having to duck behind brush or into ditches to keep out of sight of the military vehicles on patrol.

_They've closed the border by now; they won't take any chances. Eventually, they're going to find out I never returned to my hotel room, and they'll know what I look like from the passports._

She had no weapons, no supplies, no means of contacting the others for help – Lady Jaye was on her own. Even after the others figured out something was wrong, finding the retrieval team was going to be tricky; her contingency plans had never included running through the woods on the far side of the city. But it was her only option, and she went back into the forest with determination.

Her progress was slow – she often had to hide until patrols passed by when the vegetation was too sparse to provide adequate cover, or when it was necessary for her to cross the road. Worse, her clothing was authentic; while that meant her wool uniform offered some warmth when the cool, spring rains started, her boots were shoddy. Unable to keep out the moisture, the cheap imitation leather rubbed her soaked feet raw.

Wet, hungry, exhausted and exposed to the elements, Jaye knew she had to find shelter. The temperature wasn't that cold, but it was cold enough – she was slowly slipping into hypothermia.

When twilight came, she crawled through the undergrowth until she reached the road, spotting a barn in a distant field. After waiting for the military patrol to pass, she darted across the gravel lane, running as fast as possible toward the structure. It was unheated but full of goats, and the animals' body heat made it relatively comfortable.

Stripping off her wet clothing, she wrung it out and used handfuls of straw to dry her body before redressing. As she feared, her feet were a mess; the cheap boots had worn blisters into the flesh, and the sludge through which she crawled had left the wounds infected. There wasn't much she could do without a medical kit, so she left the boots off, packing them with straw to help them dry out.

Jaye looked around the barn for something edible, but all she saw was straw and hay. She did find a small, rusty pail and let out a small sigh before approaching one of the goats. The animal let out a complaining bleat as she grasped its teat.

"Sorry, it's my first time. I'll try to be gentle," Jaye said in what she hoped was a comforting tone; the last thing she needed to do was alert anyone to her presence. The farmer had milked the animals recently, so none of them had much milk, but she eventually managed to get enough to fill her stomach.

A manure pile stood at the rear of the barn, near a gate that opened into the fields. The stench was powerful, but it was also the best thing to hide behind in case someone came in through the main door. With a resigned air, she tossed a couple armfuls of clean straw onto it before leaning into the warm heap and falling into an exhausted slumber.

She woke suddenly in the early morning, her senses alert as the goats milled about nervously. Barking came from the distance, and she slipped into her boots gingerly, making her way to a window. Through the falling rain, she saw the lights of several military trucks at a neighboring farm. Cursing silently, she worked quickly to cover any traces of her presence in the barn before disappearing out the back.

Her progress was even slower than before; in the pitch darkness, she had to move cautiously to avoid tripping in the undergrowth. Walking was hard enough with her infected feet; a broken ankle would doom her. By the time dawn broke, her body temperature was dropping, and she was ungainly as her chilled limbs moved sluggishly.

Shortly after noon, she paused at the edge of the bog, fumbling with a birch tree until she finally managed to break off a small limb. Using her teeth, she stripped off the bark and started chewing the sappy, sugar-rich inner layer.

Jaye sat on a root, leaning forward to get out of the wind as shivers rocked her body. Panting, she tried to touch the little finger on her right hand with her right thumb, and it took all her concentration to do it.

"Damn," was all she managed to say.

Her muscle coordination was failing – an unmistakable sign that her core body temperature was sinking to dangerous levels. Hypothermia was easy to treat, even when as advanced as hers – _if_ she had a change of clothes, food and shelter.

Lady Jaye seriously doubted the Dreadnoks had conveniently left an abandoned hideout in the bog, and even if she found enough dry tinder to start a fire, it would be suicidal to attempt it. All day, the number of patrols had increased, and she was certain she had heard dogs baying in the distance.

The safe house was only a short distance away, once she crossed the bog.

The bog was full of chilly water.

Her only chance of survival was reaching the safe house.

Crossing the bog would hasten how quickly she succumbed to hypothermia.

They'd catch her if she didn't move; she faced death if she went forward.

There was no other way to reach the safe house undetected except through the bog; there was no cover along the roads leading to it. Her pursuers were gaining on her. The microfilm she carried was too important – she _had_ to deliver it.

A crashing sound coming from the woods on the far side of the road got Jaye on her feet, crouched behind the tree. The KGB wouldn't make that much noise, and the military or police would use scent dogs to find her. Thoughts of running into the terrorists unarmed made up her mind.

She tried not to think about the fact that mental confusion leading to idiotic decisions was also a hallmark of hypothermia as she eased her body into the bog. The cold water immediately shocked her, and her shivering increased as she locked her eyes on the twin hills in the distance that were near the safe house.

_Get to the safe house. Deliver the film._

She concentrated on those two thoughts, hoping to remember her goal if – when – she became mentally disoriented. Lady Jaye repeated the mantra non-stop, ignoring the pain, ignoring her exhaustion, until it was the only thing in her conscious mind.

Her pace was slow – the rains had flooded the bog, raising the water to waist-deep in places and making her footing treacherous. More than once, she slipped completely underwater as her muscles refused to cooperate as she became colder, and it took all her inner strength to get moving again.

By the time she reached the opposite side of the bog, she was staggering, hardly able to stay on her feet. She crossed the road without looking for patrols, no longer able to think coherently. All she knew, all she wanted, all that went through her mind was to reach the safe house.

And when a startled female voice called out, "Lady Jaye!" she didn't recognize her own codename. Two pairs of arms wrapped around her, trying to support her, but – lost in a dazed stupor – she tried to fight them off, not registering the concerned faces or voices of her friends.

Vaguely she was aware that her body was moving in the opposite direction than she was trying to walk, but she didn't realize they were carrying her cautiously to a wooden structure away from the safe house.

"My God! Where did you find her, Scarlett?" A new pair of arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, and she again tried to fight her way loose. "It's okay, Jaye. You're safe now."

"She's disoriented, Flint. She can't understand you. We have to get her warmed up and out of here."

Jaye continued to struggle in his arms as two blades expertly cut off her soaked clothing, trying to explain that she had to deliver the files, but she wasn't able to form the words. Talking continued around her, but it was an incomprehensible babble, and with a last burst of strength, she tried to push away from him.

"Stay still!"

The deep voice barked the order with enough forcefulness that it penetrated her mental fog, and she quit struggling. Looking into his concerned eyes, a sense of familiarity slowly filtered into her mind. She concentrated on one word, finally getting out something that only remotely sounded like "film."

"What is it, Snakes?" Flint asked as he slipped his jacket off and wrapped it around her, pulling her tightly against his body. She leaned into his warmth, repeating the word slowly, until a gloved hand held up the container of microfilm. "You even brought the files out!"

She leaned back, trying to nod, to acknowledge that she'd completed her mission, but darkness overtook her, and she never heard Flint's concerned call as he caught her falling body.

_TBC_


	7. Chapter 7

**A Book By Its Cover  
A/N:**. Sorry for the delay, but real life got hectic. Here's a short chapter until I get the rest finished. If this seems exceptionally disoriented, blame it on the Percocet. Thanks to VR Trawoski for the beta service. All remaining mistakes are all mine – I'm greedy that way. **  
Disclaimer:** I own nothing except a pair of cats, and they'll argue about who really owns whom.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Awareness returned slowly in a series of disjointed sensations. Flashes of images, snippets of noises, odd touches – at some level, Lady Jaye was aware of them, but all that her mind understood was the deep cold and pain that seemed to reach her very bones. Too disoriented to process the sensory information, the incoherent jumble only added to her mental confusion as her body fought to recover.

An indistinct sense of danger and determination slowly worked its way into her consciousness, and she tried to get up, to escape from the unknown peril, but something held her down. She tried to fight it off, but she was too weak, and – oddly – the restraint seemed warmer than she was. Once she stopped struggling, Jaye instinctively tried to burrow closer to the restraint, savoring the heat it gave off. Soothing noises surrounded her, lulling her into a sense of safety, and she settled into the warmth of whatever was cocooning her.

Gradually, the formless noises coalesced into voices; although the words had no meaning, the tone suggested they were talking to her. When she was lucid enough to try to answer, someone rewarded her mutterings by pouring something warm and sweet into her mouth, and she swallowed it greedily. The radiating trail of warmth the liquid left in her throat dissipated quickly, but it was wonderful while it lasted and encouraged her to focus on the voices.

Time had no meaning for her as she drifted in and out of consciousness, but she finally started to recognize what was around her. Unable to move her body, Jaye darted her eyes from side to side, trying to figure out what was happening. The voices grew more distinct, and she tried to acknowledge their concerned questions.

Someone supported her head, raising it up, as a hand brought the cup to her lips. When she tried to move her hands to grab it, something pinned her arms to her body, telling her to stay still. The directions filtered through her brain, and she stopped struggling, receiving another sip of liquid once she was quiet.

Concentrating on the figure in front of her, Jaye nodded weakly when asked if she wanted more to drink, and the redheaded woman gave her a smile and held the cup for her. _Friend_: the thought percolated to the front of her brain as she was lowered back down; she continued staring until she recalled the name.

"Hi, Scarlett," she said finally forced out.

"Hi, yourself," Scarlett answered, tears in her eyes despite her broad smile. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," Lady Jaye answered, wanting to escape back into the painless darkness.

"Stay awake!"

The chorus of voices surprised her, and she stared at Scarlett in confusion.

"Don't go to sleep, okay?" the redhead urged.

"You've made it this far, Jaye, don't give up now. Stay with us," said a voice from behind her. When she tried to turn to see who was talking to her, strong arms held her still, and she realized her warm restraint was a human body. The voice was familiar and comforting, and she tried to look to see who it was. The body changed position and a face appeared above her. "It's me, Flint. Snake Eyes is over there."

She lifted her head, staring curiously at the blond man with sunglasses who was dressed in black. She either never saw or didn't understand his signed comment, and he finally reached up and pulled on the rubber of his mask.

"Okay," Jaye muttered as Scarlett drew her head down, adjusting whatever they had wrapped around it for warmth. "Why?"

"You were on a mission. We're here to take you home," she said.

A sudden bump rattled everything, verifying that they were in some sort of vehicle. "Moving?"

"Breaker's heading for a new rendezvous spot," Flint answered vaguely.

Memories flooded back in a confused jumble, and she tried to get up as the danger registered. "The film! After it."

"Don't try to move!" Flint ordered, shifting his body so he was practically on top of her. "Snakes has the film. It's safe. You're safe. You need to take it easy but don't go to sleep, okay? Talk to us."

"Oh," she managed to say. When he returned to his position behind her, she pressed back against his body, desperate for the added warmth it provided. She was tired, but they wanted her to stay awake; Jaye wasn't cognizant enough to understand why, but she knew she trusted their instructions. "Sound _…_ worried."

"Damn straight," he said after a beat. "Do you know how much paperwork I'll have to do if you don't come back with us? Now stay awake. Keep talking."

"I'll do _…_ paperwork _…_ for you," she said weakly.

Flint blinked slowly before turning his head. "Is the next batch ready? Good, let's get her brain warmed up and working again."

Jaye's puzzlement at his comment faded as the cup returned in view, and he supported her body as Scarlett brought it to her mouth, letting her take several small sips. They continued to talk to her, but the words lost meaning as she drifted back into darkness for a while. Despite their best efforts, the pattern repeated, but each time she came to, Jaye felt a shade warmer and more coherent, until she was finally able to make sense of what was around her.

Turning her head, she scanned the area as best she could. They were in the back of an old farm truck; the canvas top didn't quite cover the wooden-slat sides, allowing her glimpses of the dimly-lit woods through which they were slowly moving. A bed of hay covered the bottom of the truck, with it piled high along the sides and back to hide their presence from causal observers.

Snake Eyes sat closest to the truck gate, with the neatly arranged corpses of mutilated MREs piled around him. He had a metal bucket near his feet, where he was taking out a canteen cup of water and dissolving sugar packets into it; he'd apparently jury-rigged a way of warming the water with the meal kits' flash heaters.

She was on her side, lying on some coarse material. They'd covered her body with whatever they could find – grain sacks, old horse blankets, curtains, their jackets – with Scarlett and Flint sandwiching her body under the covers, and the final pieces clicked into place.

"Hypothermia," Jaye said, the word having several extra syllables thanks to her uncontrollable shivers.

"You were pretty frozen when we found you," Scarlett said, snuggling closer to her.

Jaye nodded, closing her eyes briefly before Flint urged her to open them again; she knew they wanted her to stay awake, but she was so tired. Too tired; what had happened that left her in this condition?

"The film!" she called out suddenly, trying to get up with a sense of urgency.

"Don't move! Snake Eyes has it. You brought it out," Flint said, pulling her gently but firmly back against his body. "You finished the mission. We'll have you home soon enough."

"He's right. Just try to relax," Scarlett urged her.

Lady Jaye stared at her friend's concerned face for a long moment. "You told _…_ me that _…_ already?"

"A few times," the redhead teased, drawing Jaye's head to her shoulder. "Once you warm up, you'll start remembering what conversations we've already had."

"Sorry _…_ to be such _…_ a boring _…_ conversationalist," she stammered through her shaking.

"Oh, we're used to it," Scarlett said with a sassy smile. "You can't help that your brain needs defrosting."

She tried to stay awake, but it was hard to keep her eyes open, and she never knew how many times or for how long she drifted off. Their combined body heat and the sugar-fueled shivering helped to warm her up, and it gradually became easier for her to stay focused. Through it all, the others continued to talk to her, and even when she couldn't always understand the words, their encouraging tone filtered through her mental fog.

Jaye did her best to keep up her side of the conversation as her friends kept talking to her – even Snake Eyes occasionally moved into view to sign a question or comment to her – but the sporadic bursts of laughter from Scarlett convinced her that her answers weren't always appropriate. She gave her bunkmate a mock-glare, but her chattering teeth ruined the effect. The redhead gave her a gentle smile, cradling Jaye's head closer to her shoulder.

Despite the deep chill that pierced her body, Lady Jaye found herself smiling at her friends' concern, thinking of all the trouble they'd gone through to retrieve her. "Don't worry about me, guys. I'm just cold."

"I'm no linguistics expert, but I'm pretty sure that's what 'hypothermia' means," Scarlett joked, taking a fresh cup of warm sugar water from Snakes and helping her drink some more.

The martial artist continued joking with her, seemingly too chipper given the circumstances, but Jaye was in too much pain to think much about it. The downside of being more awake was an increased awareness of how badly she'd abused her body escaping from the terrorists and the KGB. Her muscles were cramping, and her motions were jerky as she tried to get into a more comfortable position.

"Stay still!" Flint ordered, holding her down again, and for the first time a spark of fear ignited.

"That cold?" she asked nervously. Sudden movements forced cold blood from the extremities back toward the torso, and the shock often caused fatal heart arrhythmias. But if they were worried about that, she had to have been pretty far gone; it was only a concern in severe hypothermia.

"We're not taking any risks," Scarlett said reassuringly. "Just try to stay calm, okay? You're shivering again; that's a good sign."

Jaye let out an indignant groan. "I'm going to be upset if I made it this far only to die because we hit a road bump or I sneezed."

"Try not to worry about it," Flint said softly. "If you're coherent enough to understand the risk, you're probably warmed up enough that it's no longer a possibility. Let's just not gamble on it."

"How good of a driver is Breaker?" she asked, only half-jokingly. "Soviet roads aren't known for their quality to begin with."

"Let's just say Breaker knows who he has to face if he hits any bad ruts," Scarlett said with a wicked grin, nodding in Snake Eyes' direction. "We're not making the best time, but the ride is smoother."

After she finished off another cup of warm sugar water, the others ate a cold meal scavenged from the sacrificial MREs. Flint and Scarlett took turns pulling away from her long enough to bolt something down, with the other holding her close and chatting to help keep her awake.

During all of this, she hid how badly her body ached from them. She felt the bandages on her feet, but she didn't ask for details on the extent of the damage she'd managed to inflict. They'd already done all they could to help, and she didn't want to worry them.

Gritting her teeth, she stared out between the slat sides of the truck, frowning once she realized the sunlight was getting stronger. Her last clear memory about the mission was from the afternoon; she must have been out all night. If she was still this cold, she had to have been in bad shape when they found her. But they hadn't taken her to the safe house, instead risking moving her cross-country in an open truck.

"The safe house?" Lady Jaye asked

"Not so safe. The terrorists knew about it and got there first," Scarlett told her. "Breaker intercepted a KGB transmission, so we knew they were heading there, too."

"Following us?"

"Not likely," Flint said, lifting up so she could see his face. "Snake Eyes took your clothes back into the bog while we got the truck ready. With any luck, they're still dredging it for your body."

Jaye looked at him in confusion for a moment until she remembered that end-stage hypothermia victims often paradoxically strip their clothing off. "Where are we going?"

"They had the border crossing near the safe house guarded too closely. We should slip into Trans-Carpathia late this afternoon, and Duke has a team waiting with an ambulance just over the border. We'll catch a flight to the army hospital in Heidelberg, and then back to the States once the doctors are done with you."

"Trans-Carpathia?" she asked, certain she heard him incorrectly.

"It's the easiest border to get through."

"You're taking me over the mountains? Somewhere colder?" Jaye asked, cocking her head as she stared at him.

He shrugged. "Well, it was that or trying to drive through a heavily-armed border crossing."

"We thought you'd prefer a scenic tour of the Warsaw Pact countryside," Scarlett added lightly, drawing her head back down. "Sorry we didn't have time to pack a better picnic."

She closed her eyes as fresh cramps clawed her muscles. "Why can't Cobra ever operate out of a tropical beach?"

"I tried to talk Cobra Commander into it, but I guess I'm not his type," Flint said.

Her lips twitched, even as she tried not to wince. "So much for your famous charm."

"It never seems to work when I really want it to," he said, moving back behind her.

It wasn't until later that Jaye frowned, wondering if she'd imagined the touch of sadness in his tone. No longer able to see his face, she had a hard time judging his mood; while she didn't expect him to be cracking jokes as freely as Scarlett was, it seemed strange that he was acting so taciturn. Even on rough missions, he usually tried to keep everything light and the team's spirits up.

He was angry, of that she was certain. They'd worked closely enough for her to know how he reacted whenever something caused an operation to go bad and endangered a teammate. But her memories of the mission were still fuzzy, and she wondered if he was mad at her for screwing something up.

His behavior was odd enough that she'd almost welcome one of his trademark crass lines. Given their current situation, he certainly had plenty of ammunition. Jaye was half-tempted to break the ice by asking if he was wearing a gorilla outfit or if he was just that hairy, but she hesitated to cross that line. Not only was he being exceptionally polite – she hadn't commented on the times he'd discreetly shifted his hips away from her body – but in a different setting, she'd find the way he had his body wrapped around her highly erotic, and she didn't want to send their conversation down a sexually-charged avenue.

Those thoughts faded as her shivering increased, and she closed her eyes as her body tried to curl into a ball.

"What's wrong?" Scarlett asked.

"It's crazy, but I feel colder," Jaye answered.

Flint moved quickly, grasping her wrist instead of holding her down. "Your pulse is stronger. The cold blood is starting to circulate again from your extremities. Your core temperature probably is dropping," he said, moving to cover more of her body with his. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but you're doing good."

She didn't say anything else as her two friends nestled closer to her, but she noticed the awkward moment as they wrapped their limbs over her, maneuvering carefully to stay out of each others' way. Apparently, they didn't mind being nearly nude to warm her up, but that ease didn't extend to accidentally touching one another erotically.

Lady Jaye found the situation endearingly amusing, and she couldn't resist the urge to make a joke. "The least you two could have done was buy me dinner first."

"There better not be any reason for you to feel that way," Scarlett said sharply, narrowing her eyes as she glared at Flint.

"Hey, I'm keeping my hanky as far away from her panky as feasibly possible," he said in exasperation.

"Such a gentleman," the redhead said sarcastically.

"If you mean I'm not a creep who tries to feel up a half-de-, a half-frozen teammate, then, yeah."

Jaye frowned as she tried to figure out the source of their argument, finally deciding that Scarlett had heard an exaggerated tale about their fight on the San Francisco mission.

"It's okay. I'm so cold I wouldn't notice if you did," she told Flint gently, wondering how much ire he'd endured from the martial artists earlier.

"Then there's no point in it, is there?"

"You really _are_ a gentleman," Jaye said in jest, but she could feel how tense he was. She turned her head to glance at him. "Flint, I'm comfortable with this, I really am. It wouldn't bother me to be nude with you guys even if you weren't saving my life. I know this has to be rough for you."

"I'll live," he said gruffly.

She shifted her arm, and when he went to grab it, she slid her hand into his. He maneuvered it back to her side, gently covering her hand with his and stroking the edge of it with his thumb for a moment. When she felt his muscles start to relax, Lady Jaye decided he probably wasn't angry with her after all, a fact that cheered her considerably.

Snake Eyes appeared in view with another cup of warm sugar water, and Scarlett frowned after taking it. "What do you mean, 'after the type of movies she made'?"

Lady Jaye couldn't see his signed response, but from the way Scarlett's jaw dropped, she decided that wasn't the only story the team's rumor mill had blown out of proportion; knowing some of the guys, her videotapes of theater productions had morphed into pornographic masterpieces.

"Just what kind of 'acting' did you do before you joined the military?" Scarlett asked her in disbelief, scowling as she looked back at Snake Eyes. "And when did _you_ watch these movies?"

Smiling, she imagined Snake Eyes' hectic response, and it deepened when the redhead slowly shook her head before giving her a surprisingly maternal look. "I get the feeling this is one of those things I don't want to know about."

"I doubt the story he heard has much resemblance to reality. It's the danger in listening to gossip," she added pointedly, darting her eyes in Flint's direction. "Things get exaggerated."

"Hmm," Scarlett said doubtfully, but her manner was milder as three of them continued talking.

Jaye's good humor didn't last long, as it became harder to force herself to stay awake. Her body complained at every little bump in the road, and all she wanted was to sleep away the pain radiating throughout her body. They had run out of MRE kits, so she no longer had the warm drinks to look forward to, and she had to remind herself not to take her frustrations out on her friends.

Just before noon, they entered the foothills leading to the mountains, and the air temperature dropped noticeably as they climbed higher. The infrequent mist from the lowlands gradually turned to a light snow, but Breaker had no trouble managing the narrow road.

Burrowed in her nest, Jaye stayed warm despite the lowering temperatures, and the constant shivering slowly gave way to periods of relative calm. Her friends kept a close watch on her, always offering a heartening word when they checked her pulse or adjusted the covers.

Running out of topics of conversation, Flint finally resorted to asking her to conjugate verbs, and – feeling short-tempered – she answered him in Portuguese. Scarlett laughed and pulled out a canteen she'd placed between their bodies, giving her some water to drink.

She was trying to convince them she was warm enough to go back to sleep when Snake Eyes suddenly snapped his head up. After a beat, he grabbed his swords and Uzi, disappearing over the truck's gate.

Scarlett and Flint slid out from under the covers before Jaye could finish asking, "Why's Breaker stopping?"

Both of them admonished her to stay still and quiet, moving to the rear of the truck. Scarlett pulled an M-16 out of its hiding place and placed it within easy reach before loading her crossbow. Flint readied his shotgun, a bandolier of shells already slung over his shoulder.

The juxtaposition of them wearing only their underwear and ready to fight would have been funny if the situation wasn't so dire. With the truck engine off, she could hear the sound of approaching vehicles. They were still in Soviet territory, with only a slow-moving truck for transportation, and she was in no condition to escape on foot.

They were still at least an hour or two from the border crossing; if the Soviet army knew their location, it wouldn't take long before reinforcements arrived, and even a ninja wasn't much use against air strikes. The truck was too easy to spot; they needed to abandon it and get off the road – an escape route she couldn't manage even if she had any clothing.

"Leave me and get the microfilm out of here," she whispered harshly, but their only answer was to shush her.

"Then give me a weapon," she hissed quietly, trying to work her arms free from the hodgepodge of material in which they'd cocooned her. She swore mentally as her muscles still worked sluggishly; she hadn't warmed up as much as she had thought she had.

Flint hushed her again, using hand motions to indicate that she was to be still, but she shook her head in defiance; if they were going to have to fight their way out, she wasn't just going to lie around while they risked their lives for her.

"Will you stay down?" he growled quietly as Jaye continued to squirm, and he visibly winced when she freed one arm with a rough yank. "Are you crazy?"

"No, I'm a Joe," she told him in a soft, iron voice. "I'm not that cold now, but the only chance I have of getting out of here alive is if we stay with the truck. I'm not giving up without a fight."

Flint stared at her for a moment before jerking his head in her direction. Rolling her eyes, Scarlett slid back to her side, laying a knife on top of the covers, and Jaye scowled at her. "A knife?" she whispered cuttingly.

"Do you think I was going to give an automatic weapon to someone who's shaking like an over-caffeinated jumping bean?" the redhead asked as she scanned the area through the wooden slats. "Especially one who's behind me?"

"Good point," she admitted reluctantly, picking up the knife and wiggling into an upright position.

Scarlett absentmindedly adjusted the covers as she continued looking through the slats, leaving Jaye enough slack so she could move her arm. "Breaker's gone ahead. I can't see where Snakes went," Scarlett said as she moved back to the truck gate.

Before anyone could respond, the approaching vehicles stopped. Russian voices barked out orders, but they were too far away for Jaye to make out what they were saying. Automatic weapons started firing, and then a nearby scream rang out briefly before ending suddenly.

_TBC_


	8. Chapter 8

**A Book By Its Cover  
A/N:**. I swear, this thing started out as a short story, but it refuses to die. The end really is approaching, I promise. Thanks to VR Trakowski for her beta services on this. **  
Disclaimer:** I own nothing except a pair of cats, and they'll argue about who really owns whom.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

As the scream died out, the three Joes in the truck were able to hear other sounds from the commotion, but they were too indistinct for them to get a clear understanding of what was happening. Scarlett ducked down to peer through the wooden slats again, hoping to get a clue as to the situation, but she shook her head as she glanced back at Flint. Both of them shifted behind the scant cover provided by the piled hay, ready for anyone who tried to enter the rear of the truck.

When another burst of gunfire started, closer than before, Flint pointed to the microfilm container and used hand gestures to tell Scarlett to make sure it got over the border if things went bad. She paused for only a moment before nodding her understanding, drawing her neatly folded clothes closer and slipping the container into her pants pocket. After a beat, she pulled an M-1911A1 pistol from a backpack and placed it under the covers near Jaye's hand, giving her friend a meaningful look.

Lady Jaye hid the knife and moved her hand over the pistol as she lay back down, and Scarlett loosely covered her with a horse blanket, leaving enough slack to let her move quickly if necessary. She was shivering too much to aim properly, but that wasn't the goal; she was playing possum, ready to surprise anyone who made it into the truck to give Scarlett an extra moment to escape with the microfilm.

Her movements were clumsy as she readied herself, and Jaye mentally cursed her sluggish muscles – and the mess her friends were in. Logically, she knew their predicament wasn't her fault, that it was a sign of her skill that she'd escaped the trap in Dvrok and eluded both the KGB and the terrorists.

None of that changed the fact that her friends were in danger because they had come to her aid, and she worried about them. True, it _was_ their job and if they weren't here, they'd probably be on another mission just as risky. But while everyone on the team was highly trained, Snake Eyes was a walking, defaced testament of what could happen to even the best Joe.

At least Jaye drew some comfort from the fact that he was probably the source of the scream – in that he caused it to come from someone else. She could just make out a Russian voice barking out a call for help and – from his frantic tone – she gathered the soldier wasn't getting a signal through.

Another close by scream died almost immediately after starting, and Flint got ready to slip out of the truck to draw fire away from them when a voice called out loudly.

"Snake Eyes, that was like totally awesome, dude!"

"Footloose?" Scarlett asked, turning toward Flint in surprise as she lowered her crossbow. "What's he doing here?"

"Hell if I know," he growled.

Both of them got up, looking over the piled hay at the back of the truck and a wolf-whistle greeted them.

"Oh, man, my karma must be whacked! I so drew the wrong part of this assignment," Footloose said.

"Yeah, it's been a regular orgy in here," Scarlett said shortly, shaking her head as she moved back to Jaye's side, taking the knife and pistol before starting to rearrange her covers.

"Easy, man, I'm just looking. Whoa! All right, all right, I'll get the gear. Mellow out."

Snake Eyes slipped gracefully over the piled hay, a large Thermos in one hand and five-gallon water jug in the other. He passed the Thermos to Scarlett, pointed to Jaye and cocked his head curiously.

"She was going to stop anyone who got by _you_ with a knife she can barely hold," Flint grumbled, frowning when Scarlett laughed at Snakes' signed response.

"He asked if you just expected me to roll over and play dead," Jaye explained, flashing the ninja a weak smile. "Which, actually, I did."

His shoulders lifted in a silent laugh as he moved aside to help Lifeline, who was trying to clamber over the hay with his medical kit and a large bundle.

"You shouldn't be up," he said to Jaye as he moved toward her.

"Hope you brought a tranquilizer gun, then," Flint muttered, taking another water jug from Footloose. The others started passing in more supplies, and Flint and Snake Eyes arranged them around the sides of the truck.

"Will somebody tell me what the hell is going on?" the warrant officer snapped as Lifeline clipped his shin pulling one of the packages towards Lady Jaye's side.

"Avalanche," the medic answered simply as he began taking her vitals.

"The snow's seriously heavy on the other side of the mountains, and it's supposed to get worse as the day goes by," Rock-n-Roll said as he handed an ammo box to Flint, pulling out a sheaf of papers from inside his coat. "Duke sent us on motorcycles to warn you to hurry up if possible or to find another route. We weren't fifteen minutes through the pass when the avalanche started. Nobody's getting out that way."

"And then that Soviet patrol spotted us about ten miles back, and we couldn't shake them," Footloose added.

"We ditched the bikes when we saw the truck coming and hid in the woods waiting for them. Figured we could distract them long enough for you to get away," Rock-n-Roll said. "Lucky for us, they weren't expecting to get jumped by a ninja."

"It was wild, man. He's like our own Ginsu Joe – he slices, he dices, he juliennes!"

A gurgling sound came from the side of the truck as Breaker emptied diesel from a container into the fuel tank. "I jammed their transmissions at the end, Flint. I didn't hear any chatter on the radio earlier, but I don't know why they didn't contact their headquarters."

"Smugglers," Lady Jaye said, and she smiled when she heard Breaker choke as he swallowed his gum.

He lifted up the canvas covering the side of the truck, trying to look inside. "You're alive!"

"No, the guys hooked up a Ouija board to a comm circuit," she said dryly.

"What were you saying about smugglers?" Flint interrupted.

"Sorry," she told him softly, again wondering about his mood. "Smugglers are common in this area. The patrol probably thought they found some and were hoping for a bribe. They wouldn't report it until they knew whether there was anything in it for them. There's a good chance no one else knows about the guys."

He grunted in acknowledgment, opening a detailed map and scanning the meteorological and intelligence reports Duke had sent. Jaye watched him as Lifeline continued examining her, silently impressed. Despite the biting cold, Flint was dressed in nothing but a cheap pair of saggy Soviet boxer shorts, a few errant strands of hay in his hair, but it did nothing to diminish his aura of leadership.

He was in his element – facing a daunting problem, with lives on the line, and using his copious intelligence to work out a solution. It was the side of him that Jaye found most alluring; capable, strong, and caring, with no trace of his overactive ego in sight. Once again, she wondered why he had such an overwhelming need to flaunt his own accomplishments when his abilities spoke for themselves.

Snake Eyes pointed out something on the map, but Flint shook his head, passing him one of the reports as he dismissed the option; he questioned the others on border activities, and the road and weather conditions, running his finger along possible routes. Rubbing the back of his head, he eliminated yet another choice, and she sensed his growing annoyance.

Changes to plans came with the territory – half the time they were lucky to know what they were getting into when they left for an assignment – but they appeared to be doing everything on the fly this mission. Jaye frowned as she realized how ill-prepared the retrieval team seemed to be. Flint was nothing if not meticulous; his plans covered numerous contingencies. It was odd that Doc or Lifeline hadn't been part of the initial team given the shootout in the town square, and they had brought little in the way of supplies to treat her injuries or hypothermia.

Hawk must have pulled them from another mission with little or no time to prepare, she decided. It certainly explained Flint's mood; while he was perfectly capable of making up plans as they went along, it wasn't the way he preferred to operate. Her injuries and their inability to do much for her were most likely gnawing at his sense of responsibility. She was tempted to reassure him, but she suspected he wouldn't appreciate a public gesture, given how hard he worked to keep his emotional attachment to the team hidden.

When Footloose had to pull the map down to point out something, Lady Jaye hid a grin as she realized Flint and Snake Eyes' position side-by-side holding up the map wasn't accidental; their muscular backs were to her and Scarlett, presenting the others with an effective and very menacing privacy screen.

"You better get dressed," she told Scarlett, nodding towards the truck gate, "before Snake Eyes has to kill someone."

"Shh," Lifeline said as he moved the stethoscope to her chest.

"Is he being silly again?" Scarlett sighed, flashing him a smile when he glanced over his shoulder. "They aren't seeing anything more than if I was wearing a bikini."

Even through his rubber mask, Lady Jaye got the impression he was scowling, but Scarlett just chuckled lightly as she pulled on a turtleneck. "Happy now?"

The ninja gave his head an exaggerated shake before turning his attention back to the map. Jaye nearly chuckled at the exchange, but Lifeline moved her arm in a way that aggravated her sore muscles, and she gritted her teeth to stop from hissing in pain.

He paused long enough to give her a sharp look before he jotted down notes on a pad of paper. Opening the bundle, he spread a large, clean blanket next to her and began pulling away the materials covering her body, grimacing as he noticed the assortment of items they'd used. "Did you raid a stable?"

"We didn't have a lot of choice," Scarlett said bluntly as she helped him.

Lady Jaye wrinkled her nose as they pulled off a particularly grungy horse blanket. "That would explain the smell."

"No, I'm pretty sure that's you," the redhead quipped with a broad grin. "I've heard of going native before, but you really reek."

She stared at her overly-amused friend for a minute before closing her eyes. "Ugh. The goats."

"I can't wait to read your mission report," Scarlett laughed as she helped slide Jaye onto the clean blanket. Lifeline crunched some chemical heat packs and placed them over her torso before covering her with another thick blanket. He flipped back one edge of it to clean a cut on her arm, talking encouragingly as he did so.

Flint apparently had decided on a new escape route, as he ordered the others to hide the soldiers' bodies and their equipment, but to drain all of the diesel from the Soviet vehicle first, causing the medic to turn around suddenly.

"Why?" Lifeline asked.

Surprised by the urgency of the question, Flint paused in pulling on his pants. "Our best escape route is long. We'll need the extra fuel to make it."

"Is there a quicker route?"

"How quick do you need?" Flint asked, his concern evident as he darted his eyes to Jaye.

"The faster, the better," Lifeline said. "She's doing pretty good, considering the circumstances, but we need to get her to a hospital as soon as possible."

"What's wrong?" Scarlett asked, all traces of her earlier amusement gone.

"We have to assume she was in severe hypothermia when you found her. That can damage any of the internal organs," he said, holding out his hands. "Now, as far as I can tell, that hasn't happened, but there's not a lot I can do to test for it, and even less I can do to treat it. What I'm really worried about is muscle damage. The human body wasn't built to shiver for a long time. It destroys the muscle tissue and the toxins from that can cause the kidneys to shut down."

"Right," Flint said as he pulled on his boots, returning to the map. He pointed to something and looked at Snake Eyes, who shrugged and jerked his head towards the medic.

"We can reach a crossing in less than an hour, but the road doesn't go all the way to the border; we'll have to carry Jaye out the last couple of miles. If we bundle her up, can we take her that way?"

"No," Lady Jaye said firmly. "You'll be sitting ducks out there if you try to carry me in the open."

"The next closest 'safe' crossing is more than five hours away," he answered her calmly. "Someone is going to miss that patrol before then. It'll be more dangerous once they realize we're moving you."

"He's right. And it won't be long before the KGB realize you aren't in that bog," Scarlett interjected as she finished dressing, turning to Snake Eyes. "We're going to need a stretcher."

The two of them left before Jaye could object, and Flint followed to help push the shot-up Soviet truck into a gully and cover it with branches. The snow would quickly cover the most obvious signs of the fight and hopefully buy them the time needed to get out of the country. Lady Jaye wasn't happy with the plan, but she couldn't think of anything better other than telling them to leave her behind, an option she knew they weren't going to listen to.

Snake Eyes and Scarlett returned shortly with two trimmed saplings lashed together with parachute cord, and they quickly tied horse blankets to it before storing it beside the other supplies. The redhead moved to Jaye's side, opened the Thermos and helped her drink more of the warm sugar water. She gulped it gladly; while the heat packs felt wonderful, she had gotten chilled again moving around during the fight.

She heard Flint telling Breaker to send out a coded message to Duke to meet them at the new rendezvous location. When he returned, he frowned as he stared inside the truck. Lifeline had taken his old position by Jaye's side, and with the added supplies, there was little room left. He was getting ready to get in the cab when Lifeline called him over, pointing to the back of the truck bed. He climbed over their bodies carefully, taking a seat on a mound of hay, with his legs acting like a pillow for the women.

Lifeline handed him a warmed IV bag he took from an insulated container before using a stack of alcohol wipes to clean the back of Jaye's hand. "It won't do her any good if it cools off," he said as he started the IV, and Flint cradled the bag under his jacket and against his chest, being careful not to interfere with the flow.

Snake Eyes passed around MREs to the others, and Lifeline said there was a second Thermos containing broth. Between bites of her own meal, Scarlett liberally poured the liquids into her friend. "We need to warm you up before taking you out for a stroll," she said flippantly, trying to ease the nervous tension.

Lady Jaye didn't return the teasing as Lifeline had started cleaning the infected wounds on her feet. She refused his offer of a painkiller, simply noting she wanted to be alert if they ran into more trouble, but she was embarrassed when she wasn't able to hold back a whimper. Flint rested a comforting hand on her shoulder as she turned her face into his leg, biting her lip to stay silent.

"'Keep your feet dry!' - This is why they drill it into your head during boot camp," Scarlett said in a light, cheering voice. "Or tried to in your case."

"Well, I tried walking on my hands, but I couldn't breathe underwater," she replied more harshly than she had intended. To her surprise, the redhead just laughed happily.

"Oh, now I know you're going to be just fine," she said, snuggling closer to Jaye and giving her more of the warm drinks.

Once they reached the end of the road, the others stowed as much of the supplies as they could, all of them loaded down with heavy packs. Speed was important, but if they were delayed, they would need the equipment to survive the mountain snowstorm.

Flint told Snake Eyes and Scarlett to go ahead to make sure their path was clear before gingerly lifting Lady Jaye unto the stretcher. Lifeline disconnected the IV and made certain she was well covered before giving his consent to start out. He and Breaker took positions at the rear of the stretcher, with Rock-n-Roll and Footloose at the head. Flint walked beside them, his shotgun ready and a salvaged AK-47 strapped over his shoulder.

Lady Jaye was nervous the entire time; the distance was something anyone on the team could cover in a short time, even given the snow, but they were moving at a slower rate because of her. Worse, none of them were dressed in Arctic white, and they stood out vividly against the snow. Even a half-blind sniper could easily take them all out.

It was hard for her to focus on their surroundings, though. Despite the way they had wrapped her up, the stretcher lacked the thick insulation provided by the hay. The harsh cold slowly reached her, and she had to fight to keep her eyes open. Flint and Lifeline both talked to regularly, making sure she was okay, and she did her best to answer them.

When the two martial artists returned later, they moved beside her as Scarlett told her they were almost over the border, and they had seen the ambulance approaching. Jaye nodded her thanks, doubting she'd be able to stay awake much longer when she heard footsteps rushing in their direction.

"Damn, you really do look like a half-drowned swamp rat," Duke said kindly as he jogged to her side, taking the heavy rucksacks from Footloose and Rock-n-Roll. "Or should I say half-frozen?"

"Feel like it," she stammered, trying to force a smile.

"We brought a truck with a snowplow on it, so we'll have no trouble getting you to the airfield. You should be in Heidelberg in time for dinner," he told her with a rare grin.

Snake Eyes dashed ahead to open the rear doors of the ambulance, and Flint handed his shotgun to Scarlett before lifting Lady Jaye from the stretcher and carrying her inside. She smiled gratefully as he laid her down on the gurney; Duke had had the heater running full blast, and the warmth was a welcomed sensation.

"What are you doing?" Lifeline asked perplexedly, causing her to open her eyes. Flint was sitting on the opposite gurney, with Scarlett and Snake Eyes piling the last of their gear along the back of it. "We don't need an escort now."

"Our mission was to bring her home. We're not done yet," Scarlett answered him steadfastly as she slid closer to Flint to make room for Snake Eyes, her look daring him to try to get them out of the ambulance.

"Ride in the truck with the others," he started to complain but Duke's laugh cut him short.

"You need to recognize when you're facing a hopeless battle," he told Lifeline.

"Fine, just stay out of my way," the medic sighed as he started another warmed IV, asking Jaye if it was okay to give her a painkiller now in an annoyed voice.

She nodded, glancing at her friends and noticing for the first time the sheer amount of weaponry they were packing as they tried to get comfortable with all their gear. Her amusement grew as she thought of the looks on the faces of any black marketers unlucky enough to try to rob their ambulance.

When Scarlett asked what was so funny, Lady Jaye explained but Lifeline muttered darkly, "They're too packed in to move without shooting each other."

"I think there's a reason Snake Eyes is closest to the door," she said, and he gave her a quick nod.

"Hmph. Not that we need an arsenal capable of leveling a small country."

"Well, the real danger isn't over yet," Duke said from the ambulance doors, his voice joking despite his words, and they all stared at him in bewilderment. He pointed to Jaye in open amusement. "When Gung Ho heard about you crossing that bog, I think he fell in love. I hope you don't mind a Cajun beau who's going to want you to transfer to the Marines."

Jaye didn't say anything, trying to figure out if she was imaging the goading looks he was directing towards Flint; the painkillers, combined with her exhaustion, were already making her thinking cloudy. The warrant officer apparently thought the same thing, though, because she caught his scowl when she looked at him.

"Tell him to find his own girl," Flint answered curtly as he shrugged off his jacket. "This lady is one hundred percent Army."

Scarlett let out an amused chuckle and Snake Eyes gave Jaye a thumbs up sign, and she smiled at her friends before finally drifting off into a painless sleep.

_TBC_


	9. Chapter 9

**A Book By Its Cover  
A/N:**. Thanks to VR Trakowski for her beta services on this. All the mistakes are mine, though.**  
Disclaimer:** I don't believe people really read these, so let's see if anyone notices that this one is different.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Lady Jaye was faintly aware of being transferred to a Tomahawk and someone telling her that they were waiting for a break in the storm before taking off, but she was otherwise out cold until they reached the hospital in Heidelberg. Once there, a small army of doctors and nurses swarmed over her and went to work, leaving her suspicious that Hawk had personally lit a fire under the medical staff.

After being poked, prodded, injected and hooked up to what seemed like every piece of diagnostic or monitoring equipment in the hospital, they finally cleaned her up, bandaged her wounds and wheeled her into an empty ward.

She was eating crackers when Scarlett knocked lightly, sticking her head around the door. "How are you feeling?"

"Anemic," she chuckled wryly, eyeing the tech who was leaving with what Jaye felt was an excessive amount of her blood for even more tests.

"Suck it up. After what you've been through, that should have been a cakewalk." Scarlett grinned as she sat gracefully on the edge of the bed, a large diplomatic attaché bag over her shoulder. Snakes and Flint entered as well, standing near the wall.

"Good to see you, too," Jaye said lightly, pausing to take a sip of apple juice. "I'm glad you're finding all of this amusing."

"I have every reason to be happy."

She returned the grin for a moment before turning serious. "Where are the others?"

"Busy," Flint said.

"That microfilm you saved had a lot of information on it," Scarlett added.

Lady Jaye accepted the vague answers without question, recognizing the hallmarks of a classified mission. "Well, thanks anyhow. To all of you. I owe you guys."

"Oh, who keeps tabs on that," Scarlett answered with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You'd have done the same for any of us."

"I still appreciate it." Despite the redhead's assurance, she still planned to find a way to show her gratitude to her friends later. "I guess I have Hawk to thank for a room to myself."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure that was for the other patients' benefit," Scarlett said with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "No need to make those sick souls have to smell you."

"The nurses hosed me down," Lady Jaye said with a resigned sigh; she had the feeling she was going to be the butt of numerous good-natured jokes involving goats for the next few weeks.

Scarlett chuckled as she smiled. "Is there anything you need?"

"Is there a vending machine around? I'm starving."

"Can you eat?" Flint asked.

Lady Jaye turned her head to look in his direction. He hadn't sounded rude – not exactly – but he stood tensely, his arms crossed over his chest. He'd normally be the one cracking jokes with an injured teammate, trying to cheer them up.

"Yeah, I just got to the ward too late for dinner. I think they raided the other patients' leftovers for this," she said, pointing out a few packs of crackers, a container of Jell-O and two cups of juice.

"Are you in a 'bag of pretzels to tide me over to breakfast', or a 'wheel the whole machine in here and kick out the glass' mood?" Scarlett asked.

"I don't need the _whole_ machine," Jaye answered. "But something more than a bag of pretzels would be great."

"The commissary is still open. We haven't had dinner yet. I'll go grab us all something to eat," Flint said.

Scarlett cocked her head at his terse tone, and she discreetly nodded toward the exit. Snake Eyes followed, silently closing the door behind him. Setting the diplomatic attaché on the bed, she narrowed her eyes, but it was tempered by her curling lips. "I think it's time we had a little chat about your movie career."

"Are you sure it won't offend your Southern sensibilities?"

"Be nice, or you don't get your gift," Scarlett said, darting her eyes to the bag. "A certain bunkmate of ours sent an emergency care package over. And you really need the hairbrush."

Laughing, they passed the time joking about the stories of Lady Jaye's supposed porn career that were floating around base and other gossip until the guys returned, each carrying a large paper sack.

Flint was quiet except to ask her which type of soup and sandwich she wanted, fishing out the appropriate items and putting them on her tray. He added a large container of milk, a bag of chips, an orange and a thick slice of chocolate cake, causing Jaye to raise an eyebrow.

"A multi-course dinner. It's been a while. You really know how to show a girl a good time," she quipped, and she thought he nearly smiled back at her.

He did pull a chair beside her bed, frowning as the other two started packing up their dinner. "You don't have to go," he said shortly.

"It's okay," Scarlett said as she transferred everything into one bag.

"We're all colleagues here," Flint added, looking at Snakes. "You don't have to go hide in a corner to eat."

"Thanks for the offer," Scarlett said, making no attempt to hide her sarcasm, "but it's for your benefit, not Snake Eyes'."

Jaye frowned as she glanced around the room. Flint may have meant well, but for all his intelligence, he never seemed to take the right approach with the pair of no-nonsense martial artists. Scarlett was obviously not happy with him right now, and it was impossible to judge how the ninja had taken his words – it was rare for Snakes to give anything away in his body language.

But the big lug-head was also right; there was no need for Snake Eyes to hide from them. She'd seen part of his face, once, and it had been a horrible sight that she had never wanted to see again. But he had risked his life to help save her, and she knew he'd do it again in a heartbeat.

They were still dressed in the dark woolen clothing from the mission, not even leaving the hospital long enough to change or shower. Lady Jaye knew how prickly it got under those rubber masks when they were worn for an extended time, and the humidity only made it worse; he hadn't complained once – he never did – but for all his skills, Snake Eyes _was_ human, and he had to be terribly uncomfortable.

More importantly, Snakes was a friend, and it was wrong that he felt he had to hide his disfigurement from her for her own sake; she was embarrassed for not thinking of it herself earlier.

"Flint has a point," she said softly, having to turn to her side to see Snake Eyes by the head of the neighboring bed. "There's no reason for you to go somewhere else to eat."

He watched her for a moment, and she gave him an encouraging nod. Shrugging his shoulders, Snake Eyes faced Flint, took off his sunglasses and began peeling off his mask.

Jaye grimaced as it came off – when she knew he wouldn't be able to see her reaction – quickly adopting a neutral expression before he opened his eyes. The scarring was more extensive than she had imagined, but it was also the first time she'd seen his eyes. It was the only part of his face that was readable, and his expression there was guarded; she doubted he had been an easy man to read, even before the accident.

There was, however, a visible trace of tension in Snakes' muscles – a definite ten on the Richter scale of ninja annoyance – and Jaye hoped her well-meaning goofball hadn't gotten himself into trouble.

"Huh. That's not what I was expecting."

"Flint," she hissed, snapping her head around to give him an impatient glare, surprised that he didn't recognize how insensitive he sounded.

He didn't look at her, never breaking eye contact with Snake Eyes, even though the warrant officer was a little green. Flint finished chewing his bite of chicken sandwich and swallowing it before saying anything else.

"My Uncle Rob was a pilot for Cessna. One day when I was little, his plane got hit by lightning. He managed to land, but there was a cockpit fire. I don't even remember what he looked like before the accident; he was just my favorite uncle who was _…_ different," he explained slowly, and Jaye glanced around to see the others watching him cautiously.

"He was messed up pretty bad, and he was never able to leave the convalescent home. The whole family used to go there every Sunday and holidays for chapel services. We'd even take him outside for picnics when the weather was nice.

"He was a great guy. He never let his injuries get him down, at least not when we were around. Uncle Rob lost most of his fingers in the accident, but he took his time to explain how to throw a curve ball to my cousin Peter and me, how to throw a football and tackle better, gave us tips on building model planes. He told us wild stories about his missions over Korea, and what it was like to fly. He taught us a lot of things."

Flint paused for a moment, clearing his throat before sipping his coffee thoughtfully – all the while looking directly at Snake Eyes. "I think he knew he was dying and he wanted to give his son a lifetime of advice and memories, and I was lucky enough to get included. There's a lot I wish he had had the time to talk to us about."

Jaye gave him a sympathetic look as he paused again; it was rare for him to talk about anything personal, let alone something so painful. It sounded like he had been closer to his uncle than he was to his own father, and it was clear that he still missed the man. Even Scarlett's expression had softened with compassion.

"When it came time for the funeral, my Aunt Betty had a closed casket service. I remember being angry with her – why couldn't we see him one last time? She told me that ever since the crash, all people saw was the accident – the victim – never the man. I didn't understand her," Flint said, gazing purposely at Snake Eyes, "not at the time."

"You're right. People never see past the scars," Scarlett said with more kindness than Jaye had ever heard her use when addressing him, her expression a mixture of gratitude and surprise at Flint's awareness. Both martial artists were regarding the warrant officer intently, undoubtedly re-evaluating their opinions of him, and their postures relaxed almost simultaneously.

Lady Jaye gave Flint a kind nod when he glanced at her, glad that he'd shared the story with them. It not only gave her more insight into him, but it made her aware of how little she had thought about the effects Snakes' injuries had on him. She knew the obvious – the loss of his voice, the need for the mask – but she had never really considered how people treated him.

She then turned toward Snake Eyes, trying to imagine what his life was like, never able to show his face in public, of having people acting as if the scarring was all there was to him.

On the team, he was held in such high regard, but that was for his abilities, not for who _he_ was; she doubted anyone besides Scarlett and Stalker had any real clues as to his inner thoughts or personality. Strangers saw a monster, when in reality he had lived through more tragedy than anyone should ever have to face, and – despite it all – he was still a good man who'd do anything for his friends.

It took a bit of effort, but she forced down her revulsion and gave him a friendly smile. "You don't have to worry about wearing a mask around us."

Snakes met her eyes for a moment, and he signed a heartfelt, "Thanks."

She started to answer him when Flint added, "But that's not what I thought your face would look like. It really does look more like shrapnel damage."

"It's better than someone who screams," Snake Eyes signed quickly when she rolled her eyes, and her lips twitched at the ease with which he took Flint's less-than-tactful wording. It probably was a welcomed break from the typical reactions he received, and the ninja appeared almost amused by his blunt acceptance.

"When the fuel line exploded, it blew out the Plexiglas window on the helicopter door," Scarlett said in a pained voice. "He was in front of it at the time."

Jaye winced involuntarily, easily imagining the horror of the scene; Rock-n-Roll had told her Snake Eyes' head had still been on fire when he had carried Scarlett from the burning wreckage. "It's a miracle it didn't damage your eyes," she told him, and he nodded firmly in response.

When Flint waved to the neighboring bed, Scarlett and Snake Eyes settled on it to eat, with Snakes taking a position out of her direct line of sight. Lady Jaye made a point of turning to face him whenever she talked to one of them, and she thought his facial distortion was a fleeting smile.

Jaye tried to pay Flint for their dinner, but he refused, simply saying he'd get most of the cost back when he filed his expense report. She looked at the abundance of food he'd provided skeptically, but he wouldn't budge, so she decided to find an opportunity to return the favor later.

Despite her exhaustion and aching muscles, the idea of spending time alone with him actually elicited a response from her body, and she blinked in surprise. She was attracted to him, there was no doubt of that, but the strength of the feeling was new. And _…_ very enthralling.

She was getting sleepy but was enjoying the camaraderie too much to ask them to leave. The mood was ruined when a nurse opened the door, catching sight of Snake Eyes and shrieking before he could retrieve his mask and pull it back on. The frazzled woman offered a weak apology as he turned around to put on the fresh mask Scarlett took from her jacket pocket; the nurse quickly gave Jaye her medicine and checked her IVs before making a hasty exit, muttering another apology as she left.

"I think someone needs her beauty sleep, anyway" Scarlett said, squeezing her hand in parting, and Jaye was asleep before the others had finished gathering and tossing the trash.

When she woke up to the sound of thunder, the room was dark except for a small light off to the side, and she turned to face it, frowning to see Flint sprawled out in a chair.

"It's just a storm. Go back to sleep," he said in a surprisingly soft voice.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"A little after two."

She shook her head in mid-yawn. "In the morning? Why are you still here?"

"I couldn't sleep."

Jaye eyed the stark, unpadded, wobbly wooden chair on which he was sitting, giving him a pointed stare. "I wonder why," she said sardonically, but he just shrugged as he gazed at his boots.

After yawning again, she sat up in the bed, confused by both his presence and mood. "Did I screw up something on the mission? You act like you're angry with me."

"What?" He looked up in surprise. "No."

"Then why are you so grumpy?"

Flint stretched slowly, not looking her in the eye as he replied. "I hate spook operations. From what I gather, they had a pretty good idea that the terrorists knew about the safe house, but they didn't bother sharing that piece of information before you left for the mission. Who knows what else they didn't tell us."

Lady Jaye considered his answer; she believed what he had said, just as she knew there was more that he wasn't telling her. She didn't press the issue, though – many of their missions were classified, not even talked about with other team members. If he wasn't telling her something, he probably had his reasons.

"You should try getting in a bed. You might be able to sleep," she suggested kindly.

"I'm fine," he said around a wide yawn.

She gave him a scathing look, but he missed it as he continued to inspect his bootlaces.

"You're really taking this whole 'knight in shining armor' gig too far," she said, raising an eyebrow in surprise when he let out a loud, derisive snort.

"If you're a damsel in distress, I'm afraid to meet what passes for a femme fatale," he told her seriously.

"You already have. Redhead from Atlanta, overly fond of crossbows."

He shifted on his chair. "Yeah, I got the feeling she wanted to use me for target practice."

"Oh, that. She heard about the San Francisco mission. You know how stories grow on base," she said, giving her head a bob. "And I may have mentioned that I wanted to push you out of an airplane without a parachute a time or two _…_ hundred."

"So I heard," he said curtly.

Rolling her shoulders, she moved into a more comfortable position on the bed. Was that his problem? Scarlett could certainly be harsh when she was upset and probably had given him a hard time. From the sounds of it, her friend had let him know how unwelcome his earliest advances had been, and Jaye felt a bit embarrassed as she remembered some of the choice comments she had made about Flint. But her responses to his advances had never been coy, and they certainly hadn't discouraged him then.

"You have to know that you didn't make a great first impression," she said, grinning at him to lighten the mood. "Or second, or third_…_"

"I get the picture."

She frowned, confused as to why it was bothering him now. "You tried too hard."

"You make it sound like I had a chance."

"You always have," Jaye said, resisting the urge to laugh when he looked up in astonishment, his expression slowly changing to a wide, crooked grin.

"I knew you couldn't resist me forever."

She gave him a sharp look. "Put a lid on it, dummy. I don't like this guy."

"Huh?"

"The bravado is a turnoff, Flint." When he stared at her in confusion, she continued in a gentler voice. "I like the guy who makes me laugh, the one I know who'll have my back on a mission. The guy who can talk to me for hours about Shakespeare. You know, the knucklehead who went to Oxford."

His guarded appearance morphed into delight. "You finally figured that out," he said, scooting his chair to her side.

"I don't have time to go around reading everyone's personnel files for fun," Jaye shot back with a grin. "Why don't you ever talk about it?"

"Knowing that your mission leader can tell you about the influence of German Pietism on the Romantics doesn't inspire a lot of confidence in the troops," he said with a shrug.

Once again, she found herself accepting his answer even as she realized there was more that he wasn't willing to share with her – at least not yet. When he failed to suppress a long yawn, she grumbled to herself as she slid to the far side of the hospital bed, taking care not to bump her IVs.

"We've already established you're a gentleman," she said warningly as she patted the empty mattress by her side. "Don't make me change my opinion of that."

He stared at her for a long moment before taking his boots off, his expression almost disappointed. "Do you think I'd take advantage of you while you're in a hospital bed?"

"You'd lose a lot of points if you did. And I _would_ hurt you."

He chuckled as he gingerly climbed in beside her, lying down on his side near the edge of the mattress to keep at least an appearance of space between them; not that it was too effective – his scent, his warmth, were easy for her to pick up on, and there was no way she could deny her attraction. Not that she was in any position to do anything about it, but he definitely drew a reaction from her.

He reached over to brush a lock of hair out of her face, withdrawing his hand before she had time to comment, but her skin tingled at his touch. His eyes darkened with desire briefly, but he closed them, taking a calming breath to rein himself in.

Lady Jaye was surprised when she moistened her lips in anticipation of a kiss she knew wouldn't – couldn't – come yet. She wanted more than sex; if nothing else, she wanted to be sure they would remain friends afterwards. Besides, the various IVs created a medical obstacle course she was in no condition to have him try to navigate.

"I'm thinking this wasn't a hot idea," she said, her voice husky despite her efforts to sound calm.

"It's okay."

When Flint opened his eyes, he flashed her a joking grin. "So, what finally won you over? My wit, my charm _…_"

Recognizing his attempt to release the tension with humor, she kept her own tone teasing. "Not the ego. Go to sleep, Flint."

"I want to know what works."

"You didn't listen to what I told you, did you?" she said, smiling as she closed her eyes.

"Yeah, you said that I have a chance. Do you want to improve my odds? You'll get a great payoff," he said salaciously.

Jaye gave a dramatic sigh before turning her head to face him. "You're going to make me have to hit you, aren't you?"

"Hit or hit on?" he asked, deliberately teasing her as he leaned up on his elbow, looking down on her with an openly amused expression.

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"Like I'm going to be able to sleep now."

Jaye opened an eye again to give him a mock-glare. "I'm a qualified expert with a reflex crossbow, too. I don't need Scarlett's help to turn you into a pincushion."

"I'm behaving," he chuckled. "For now."

"Hush," she directed, pausing when she heard the sound of him scratching his heavy stubble. "By the way, the _Miami Vice_ look doesn't work for you."

"Yeah, I forgot to shave, but I don't own anything in pastel."

"Good, dark colors look better on you."

"I know," Flint chuckled.

"You would," she laughed in return.

"So, when we get back to base_…_"

Jaye's lips curled upward as she pretended to go back to sleep. "I'm going to use you for target practice."

"I think you'll like my aim," he said, wiggling his eyebrows when she frowned at him.

"How can you turn 'target practice' into something lewd?"

Flint's eyes danced with mirth in the dim light. "Practice."

"Your stunning repartee notwithstanding, I'm tired," she said. "And I have had too many tubes stuck in me today, and I don't mean IVs."

"Ouch."

"Right, now go to sleep."

Flint started to reply with another joke, but the door to the ward opened, and a very angry nurse crossed the room to jerk him by the back of his collar. "I told you you couldn't stay in here!"

"I warned you to be quiet," Lady Jaye pointed out flippantly as he reached for his boots.

The nurse was railing at him, wanting to know how he'd gotten back into the room, and Jaye gave him a questioning look. When his eyes rolled in the direction of the cracked-open window, she bit back a laugh; obviously, the nursing staff considered the fact that the ward was on the third floor would rule out visitors coming in that way.

"Go get some sleep," she called out.

Flint nodded, letting the nurse drag him from the room, his happy grin shining the whole time.

_TBC_


	10. Chapter 10

**A Book By Its Cover  
A/N:**. Thanks to VR Trakowski for her beta services on this. **  
Disclaimer:** I don't think I need a disclaimer. The first eight should more than suffice.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Lady Jaye had finished her breakfast before Flint returned the next morning, a cardboard carrier of coffee cups in one hand and a stack of newspapers under his arm. He was smiling happily, looking remarkably refreshed for just a few hours of rest.

After he'd left in the middle of the night, she'd been unable to get back to sleep, instead spending the time thinking about their situation. For all the risk – both personally and professionally – they _had_ potential; only time would tell if it was for something wonderful or for a flaming disaster. They still had to work out the logistics of what was essentially an illegal relationship, but it was a challenge she couldn't wait to tackle, and she watched her would-be lover fondly.

Crossing the room, he hooked a chair leg with his boot, dragging it with him. Jaye shook her head at the sight, grinning when he dropped the papers at the foot of the bed and set the carrier on her tray.

"You don't need to keep pouring warm liquids into me now," she joked. "My temperature _is_ back to normal."

"Only one is for you," he said, retrieving the appropriate cup and handing it to her.

Taking a sip, she gave him an appreciative nod – black with just a hint of sugar, the way she always took it first thing in the morning. If nothing else, he went out of his way to be attentive and to make an effort. A flush formed when she wondered how far that trait extended into more personal endeavors, and she sought out a safer line of thought.

"Do you need me to translate something for you?" she asked, glancing at the stack of local newspapers.

"Duke is fluent in German. I'd ask him before bothering you on your sickbed. These are to keep you occupied."

"Then how long am I stuck in here?"

"The doctors said they were keeping you at least twenty-four hours for observation, so you're not getting out before tonight."

Jaye let out a disgusted groan. "I feel fine."

"Is that a fact?" Flint asked, moving his hand as if he was going to grab her foot, his eyes twinkling when she glared at him.

"Except my feet are a little sore and I feel like I pulled every muscle in my body," she admitted with a good-natured grumble. "There's no reason to keep me here."

He grinned broadly. "So you'd rather go back to base and face Doc after leaving the hospital sooner than the medical staff here wanted you to?"

"When you put it that way, this isn't so bad," she laughed; the team's physician got downright ornery with patients he felt weren't taking their recovery seriously, and she had no desire to get on his bad side.

"Rest up here while you can. You'll get a few days off when we get back stateside. You might as well be in position to enjoy your leave," he told her.

Sipping her coffee she regarded him closely, privately enjoying the softer side he was showing – at least as long as they were alone. "Where are Snakes and Scarlett?"

"They said something about playing tourist for a change."

She was getting ready to ask who the rest of the coffee was for when Duke and Hawk entered the ward, and Duke closed the door behind him. After some pleasantries, they started the debriefing on her mission, and she quickly filled them in on how she had slipped into the country and found the dead agent's room.

Flint sat impassively as she told her story – until she got to the point where she had flirted with the police guard. He didn't say anything, but he gripped his coffee cup tightly as he leaned forward in his chair with a scowl. Apparently Duke noted his reaction, because he stopped her for more details, wanting to know what she would have done if the guard hadn't taken the spiked vodka. Hawk seemed mildly surprised by the interruption, but he waited for her to answer.

"I'd have forced it down his throat. It's not likely his superiors would have believed a wild story that he had been drugged by a maid when nothing was taken from the room, especially when it looked like he'd gotten drunk."

"But how would you have gotten him to drink it?" Duke pressed, and Lady Jaye was certain he was doing it to get a rise out of Flint. She never claimed to understand the rivalry that was part of their friendship, but she didn't appreciate being brought into it – especially when their commanding officer was in the room.

"Once he had exposed himself, he'd have been vulnerable. I could have kneed him or punched him," she said matter-of-factly, fixing the sergeant with a steady gaze. "I could have bitten him if it had come to that."

She hid her amusement when Duke visibly flinched, squirming reflexively on his chair. Flint stared at her wide-eyed for a moment before leaning back, draining the last of his coffee with a proud expression.

"Remind me to never forget to process your leave requests in a timely manner," Duke said, pantomiming writing a note.

Hawk coughed lightly, and Jaye swore she saw his lips twitching for a split second before he composed himself and told her to continue; she wasn't sure she wanted to know how much the general knew or suspected about the exchange he'd just witnessed.

Flint unfolded a map as she told them about her circuitous route to the safe house, and he and Duke used the landmarks she remembered to trace out her most likely path. When she reached the point where she had entered the bog, Flint looked up with an intense glare. "You knew you were entering hypothermia _and_ you got into cold water?" he asked, his tone professional despite his expression.

"I think so. My memory isn't too clear at that point, things are confused. I think someone was following me."

He stared at her curiously. "Who was it? We didn't see anyone coming after you."

"I don't know," she said with an embarrassed shrug. "For all I know, it was just an animal."

"Don't worry about it. At that point, you weren't in any condition to be making judgment calls. And you _really_ weren't in any shape to deal with a bear that woke up from hibernation in a pissed-off mood," Duke told her kindly.

The men finished asking questions and were gathering up their notes to leave when Flint paused, wanting to know how she had spotted the trap in the town square. She tried to tell them how she'd noticed the deception, what had drawn her attention to the unnatural behavior of the soldiers, but she didn't know if her description was clear.

"It was a matter of seeing the detail that was wrong. It's something I learned from acting; I'm not sure I can explain it better," she offered.

"Well, there's a reason why you're the best we have at this," he said sincerely, and the others added their agreement.

"I try my best," she said, gladly accepting the professional recognition. It wasn't something she craved or needed – a glory hound wouldn't last long on the team – but the acknowledgment still felt good.

"Is there anything you need?" Flint asked.

"A lift home?" she joked.

"Don't worry about that. The plane will be ready when the doctors release you," Hawk told her, pausing at the door. "You did a good job, Lady Jaye."

"Thank you, sir."

Knowing the others would be busy going over her report and having their own debriefings, she settled down to read the newspapers until lunch. At noon, she took a phone call from Dial Tone, laughing at the creative version of _Old McDonald_ – extolling her fondness for goats – being sung in the background by various teammates.

Scarlett and Snakes came to visit later in the day, staying until the swarm of medical staff descended on her. Despite her protests, they wouldn't release her that night, saying her blood work was still slightly off. She did cheer up somewhat when the others came to eat dinner with her again, and Snake Eyes didn't hesitate to remove his mask and join them.

Flint was the last to leave, staying behind to gather up the trash and put the chairs away. He waved to Scarlett and Snake Eyes as they left, turning to Lady Jaye with a lopsided grin as he sat by her side.

"Stay in your own bed tonight," she said in mock-warning, chuckling at his exaggerated look of disappointment.

"Can I get you anything else before I go?"

"I'm fine."

"You're more than fine." He reached over to run his hand over her cheek, his fingers slowly and gently caressing her skin. "You're gorgeous."

Jaye leaned into his touch for a moment, laughing lightly as he pulled his hand away. "It's too bad I don't have any self-esteem issues. You'd do wonders for my ego."

"Oh, I plan to do wonders for you," he said huskily. "I'll add 'ego' to the list."

She closed her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. "Flint_…_"

"It's not a brag, it's a promise."

"Get out of here," she said with a smile. "Before I call your favorite nurse to drag you out again."

"I should wrap up the paperwork tonight. I'll be free tomorrow_…_"

"So go somewhere," she interrupted. "Wasn't Heidelberg home to some of your German Pietists? Go do something fun."

Flint cocked his head. "I think you're the only person in history to ever use 'German Pietist' and 'fun' in the same sentence."

"I'm serious. You guys have spent too much time worrying about me. Just because I'm stuck in here doesn't mean you have to baby-sit me. I want you to go do something for yourself tomorrow."

"And visiting you doesn't count?"

"You're going to be stuck with me for ten hours on the flight home," she said firmly but kindly.

He shrugged in acceptance, although his expression was confused. After standing up, he paused, staring at her for a moment.

"I'm not chasing you away," she reassured him with a teasing smile. "But you're starting to make me feel self-conscious. 'Covert' means not attracting attention."

He picked up her hand, being careful of the bruising from the IV as he ran his thumb over the top of it. "You nearly died. You scared m-, us."

"It wasn't intentional," she said softly. It was the closest he'd ever come to directly admitting a fear, and the significance wasn't lost on her. After a minute, she looked toward the door. "Did you climb up from the ground or down from the roof last night?"

"Huh?" he asked, startled by the sudden change in the conversation.

"The nurse from last night is coming. You better escape." Jaye pointed toward the door, chuckling as he rolled his eyes as he registered the voice. He ducked behind the door as the nurse entered, slipping out unseen.

Flint did stop in the next morning after breakfast, just to ask if she needed anything, and Jaye thought he looked disillusioned after she said no. He left the day's papers and headed out, pausing as if he was going to say something, but leaving quietly after a beat. When the door opened immediately again, she started to make a joke, but stopped in mid-sentence when General Hawk entered the room.

He told her to relax as he took a seat, explaining he was killing time between meetings with the local intelligence officials. Surprised by the social visit, she kept her responses cautious at first, but his manners and self-assured comportment reminded Lady Jaye of her father, and they soon settled into an effortless conversation about their favorite ski locations.

"You'll get a chance to try the slopes at Provo sooner than you think," he said mysteriously before leaving.

Early in the afternoon, the doctors ran a last series of tests and released her from the hospital with a warning to take it easy until her feet finished healing. As promised, a transport plane waited for them, and the group settled into a light conversation before they started to nap. Luckily, her wounds turned out to be more sore than serious, and she was able to walk into headquarters unassisted when they reached the States early the next morning.

Despite the hour, a large group was there to meet them, and Jaye returned the various greetings and well-wishes as someone shoved a bag of chips and a soda can into her hands. Even the normally stoic Spirit embraced her cordially as he welcomed her back, but Gung Ho surprised her with a hearty kiss on both cheeks as he lifted her up in a bear hug.

She blinked, too shocked to say anything as he set her down carefully, and Scarlett laughed at her expression. "I thought Duke was joking about him," Jaye said, glad Flint had missed the scene.

"Hey, is that how we're greeting Jaye? Count me in!" Shipwreck said, his arms open as he came up to her, settling for a quick pat on the back when Snake Eyes turned to gaze silently at him.

Lady Jaye was laughing with the sailor when someone pummeled her shoulder, and she turned to find Cover Girl pulling her into a fierce hug. "Don't scare us like that again!" the ex-model scolded her, lowering her voice so no else would overhear her. "Flint took it really hard."

"I know," she answered, somewhat overwhelmed by the reaction from her friends; it wasn't the first time one of her missions had run into trouble, but she'd never received a such a hearty reception before.

Beach Head eventually broke up the meeting with a bark of, "The rest of y'all have PT in five minutes! Get a move on, people!"

She headed back to the women's barracks with Scarlett and Cover Girl, the two of them fussing over her until she belted them with her pillow. After a long, hot shower, she changed into fresh BDUs and headed for the mess hall for breakfast. Scarlett and Snake Eyes were sitting at a table and waved her over.

"Well, thanks to you, we have the next four days off," Scarlett joked, handing Jaye her own paperwork. "Any plans?"

She shook her head as she took the pass. "I think I'm going to check into a hotel and sleep," she said wryly. "Maybe soak up some sun in the park."

"Then I have just the thing for you," Flint said from behind her.

Turning, she smiled approvingly; he was already in his civvies – khaki pants and a dark leather jacket over a blue shirt that matched his eye color. The clothes were of good quality and fit him well, highlighting his athletic build. Resting a large gym bag on the table, he pulled out some papers from his jacket pocket.

"The commissary was giving these away. I grabbed the last one for you," he said, passing her a flyer and a ticket to an all-day festival in the park, including performances from Chaucer's _The Canterbury Tales_ and period music.

"Thanks, this sounds perfect," she said, not surprised when he waved to them and left without another word; he wouldn't announce his intentions to join her to see a production of a medieval classic to the entire mess hall.

It didn't take her long to change clothes, opting for casual and comfortable shoes, or to pack a small bag. She didn't take much, as she was serious about checking into a hotel to rest, and room service could provide anything else she needed.

A cab ride brought her to the park, and she walked the short distance to the make-shift stage. There was a small crowd under the trees, but she didn't see Flint anywhere. She opted for a seat under a huge oak that gave her a good view of the surrounding area. It wasn't long before she grew bored with the lackluster production and became curious as to why Flint hadn't joined her; it might have been the last ticket in the commissary, but there were plenty of available seats left.

Picking up her bag, she walked to a nearby restaurant for an early lunch, indulging in a gourmet treat. She took a casual stroll around the park, not really interested in watching the rest of the show, but not ready to check into a hotel, either. She was looking for a sunny spot to rest her aching feet when she spotted Flint sitting on an army blanket under a tree, reading something in a manila folder.

"I don't know whether to be impressed by your dedication or worried about your workaholic tendencies," she teased as she approached him.

"Hey," he said in surprise, sliding over to make room for her on the blanket. "I'm just catching up on some personal stuff."

Sitting down, she noted the neatly arranged stacks of bills, letters and magazines he was working his way through. "So, this is why you didn't come to the play. You'd rather spend your time with the _Sports_ _Illustrated_ swimsuit edition than with me."

"That hasn't come out yet," he said, looking at her quizzically. "I thought you said I was trying too hard."

"You were."

"You didn't want me to visit you in the hospital, but going to a play would have been okay?" he asked seriously.

"I didn't want you spending all your time visiting me in the hospital," she corrected, pleased that he was taking her advice to heart. "And any endeavor that doesn't involve you actively trying to get me in bed would be fine."

He lifted an eyebrow as he peered over the top of the folder in his hands. "So, you don't want me to breathe."

"It is possible to think of something other than sex. Other men manage it just fine."

"No, they don't," Flint stated. "They just don't admit it's what they want."

"I'm never going to be able to listen to my parents' banter as they play bridge the same way again. Thanks a lot," Lady Jaye laughed, nudging his ribs. "Did you hear any of the show from here?"

"Some of it. Was it as bad as it sounded?"

"Pretty much. Is this your entire plan for your leave?" she asked, waving to the piles of paperwork around him.

"I hope not. Can you translate this for me?" he asked jokingly.

She took the mutual fund prospectus from him with an inquisitive glance. "I didn't know you invested."

"I try to put something away every month – just in case. Army disability payments aren't great, and if I never need it for that, it'll make retirement more comfortable."

She scanned the document quietly as he put one folder away and picked up the next. "If you're saving for the long-term, you'd do better with a growth fund rather than an index fund."

"You know the stock market?" he asked with so much surprise that she gave him a meaningful stare. "I mean, even with our bonuses, you don't get paid a lot at your rank. You're always generous when someone's raising money for something, and your stuff is always nice. I didn't think you'd have anything left to invest."

Lady Jaye accepted his explanation with a smile, leaning against the tree. She certainly wasn't embarrassed by her family's wealth, but it wasn't something she flaunted, either. Not only was it terribly gauche to do so, but it tended to make some people uneasy. She wondered how Flint's ego would handle the fact she had far more money than he stood to earn in his lifetime.

"One of my uncles is a stock broker. He never married or had children. From the time we were ten, he would give all the nieces and nephews a little bit of money every month on the condition that we had to keep it invested until we graduated from college. He showed us the ropes."

"So you really do understand this stuff," he said, sounding impressed. "Do you keep up with it?"

"I received a small inheritance from my grandmother when she died, and I use the interest off of that for extra spending money."

"I'm sorry. Were you close?" he asked sincerely.

"We were," she said, smiling sadly at the memories. "But she was suffering at the end. I think she was ready to go. What about you? It sounded like you miss your uncle."

"I do," he said, flipping through the folders until he reached a stack of postcards held together with a paperclip, tossing them to her. "My parents are in Mexico."

"Your mother sends you postcards from their vacations?" she asked with a teasing grin.

"She thinks it's a shame I never get to travel," he laughed. "It's not like we can tell people where we've been."

"Have you been home recently?"

"No," Flint answered, dropping the folder into his lap when she looked at him curiously. "The last two times I tried to visit, I got called back on a mission. My parents don't understand that it's not personal. They think that because I'm an officer, I have some sort of pull with assignments."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. We keep in touch. And Mom and Aunt Betty don't hassle me as much about getting married over the phone," he said with a grin.

"I can see where that would terrify you," Jaye deadpanned.

"I have nothing against the idea. It's just not likely," Flint said slowly, letting out a long huff of breath. "With the hours we keep, always on standby to go on a mission, plans getting changed at the last moment, never knowing how long we're going to be overseas – it's hard to make anything work in those conditions. It's not _…_ realistic _…_ to expect something to last long."

"True," she said, unable to keep a slight feeling of unease at bay. Everything he just laid out was accurate, but for all his recent kindness, Jaye had suspected he'd only been interested in sex; she questioned if this was his way of telling her he wasn't looking for anything serious, or if he was only speaking in general terms.

They kept chatting while he worked his way through his bills, and he finally packed the last of his folders into his gym bag. They sat quietly for a moment, and the tension slowly built as they watched each other. His desire was obvious, as was his effort to resist making a pass at her.

"So, German Pietists influenced the Romantics," Jaye said, anxious for a distraction when the silence grew uncomfortable. "Tell me about that."

Flint eyed her suspiciously, and she gave him an encouraging look. "We're not on a mission, you don't have to worry about my confidence in you, and I'm serious."

"How much do you know about it?"

"Assume my philosophy knowledge is limited," she said, turning sideways to face him and settling against the tree as he started to talk. He was hesitant at first, but once he realized she was interested, Flint relaxed and began talking in earnest.

When she opened her eyes later, she immediately closed them again in embarrassment. Her head was resting on his knee, and his jacket was draped over her upper body.

"Falling asleep on you doesn't help my case that I was interested in what you had to say, does it?"

Flint laughed self-deprecatingly. "You've had a rough week."

"That's no excuse. You should have woken me up," she said, sitting up and handing him his jacket. "You wasted an entire afternoon."

"I didn't mind. I'm sure I was the envy of every guy who walked by."

"Technically, I've already slept with you and everyone on the team knows it," she said in jest. "You can turn down the charm."

"That wasn't what I'd call a fun experience, or one that I'd want to repeat," he said solemnly, and she regretted teasing him about it.

Standing, she stretched and held her hand out to him. "I need some food to take my medicine with. Care to join me?"

They walked to a nearby coffee shop, settling down with a plate of biscotti and muffins. Lady Jaye watched Flint carefully, weighing her conflicting emotions.

"You seem lost in thought," he said after a while.

"You confuse me," she admitted.

Flint appeared surprised, tilting his head as he asked, "How?"

"You always carry shotguns shells on your web-gear, but you hardly ever use a shotgun," she joked, stalling for time.

He gave her a half-hearted grin. "I don't think that's what has you so quiet."

"Why are you risking your career over a quick roll in the hay?"

"Well, there's two things wrong with your assessment," he answered lightly. "First, do you really think I'm desperate enough that I'd go to this much trouble for a one-night stand? Wait, on second thought, maybe I don't want your answer," he chuckled, holding up his hands in mock-defeat.

Jaye gave him a half-amused smirk. "And secondly?"

"There wouldn't be anything 'quick' about it; I guarantee you'll have no complaints about the duration."

She set her coffee mug down, giving him a disappointed look. "Ugh. You were doing so well there. At least you said 'duration' and not 'length'."

"I didn't think of that double entendre. That would have been a better line," he laughed.

"Not really."

"Well, I don't think you'll find any shortcomings in that regard."

"What's the longest you've gone without bragging about something, Flint? An hour?" she asked impatiently.

"That actually wasn't a boast," he started to joke, stopping when he realized she didn't find it amusing. "Is it bragging if it's true?"

"Yes!" Lady Jaye said, shaking her head as she watched him. "Otherwise it's delusional."

Flint was quiet for a long moment, fiddling with the mug in his hand. When he looked up, his expression was completely serious. "I find false modesty to be disingenuous. And, frankly, in our line of work, it's dangerous. When we're on a mission, we need to know _exactly_ what everyone is capable of. Denying an ability is as bad as claiming skills you don't have."

He paused again, finally rolling his shoulders. "When I tell you something, it's the truth, as best as I'm able to present it. You can trust what I tell you."

"Plenty of people are honest without coming across as braggarts."

"It's who I am," Flint said quietly, shrugging as he picked up his mug.

"Yeah, I suppose it is," she answered, confusing him with an affectionate smile.

Their fingers brushed as they both reached for the last muffin, and he covered her hand with his, squeezing gently. She twined her fingers around his, savoring his touch; the tenderness he showed her was such a stark contrast to the roughness of his ego. Their breathing grew ragged until he pulled back suddenly, looking away as he flexed his hands.

"You have it; you missed lunch because of me," she said, excusing herself and heading to the restroom. She paused at the payphone on the wall by the door, looking back to see Flint breaking the muffin in half, his posture tense.

"Damn it," Jaye swore sadly.

She wasn't toying with his feelings, and hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do; if anything, she cared too much for him already. But her hesitance – when it was clear she was attracted to him – had to be hard on Flint. Hell, it was hard on her.

As much as she wanted to build a solid friendship with him first, the unresolved sexual tension was a problem, presenting an obstacle to how close they could get until it was resolved.

_So resolve it._

A quick phone call and dropping the family name set her plan in motion, and she approached the table apprehensively. It was a crazy idea – get the sex out of the way so they could grow closer and become lovers – but something had to be done.

"I know a place that fixes a great steak," Lady Jaye told him. "Can your ego handle a woman buying you dinner?"

His smile was genuine, even if his voice was a bit strained. "If you let me treat you to something later."

Despite her nervousness, she laughed. "I'm impressed. A loaded statement like that, and you didn't make it sound suggestive at all."

"It took an effort," Flint said dryly, offering his arm to her as they reached the sidewalk.

He darted his eyes towards her as she led him to a hotel, and she smiled. "I'm going to check in first and drop off my bag."

"Oh," he said, trying not to sound let down, but his attention soon shifted to the red sports car parked in front of the building.

Inside, the car's owner was happy to talk about it, and the two men were too busy with their conversation to notice the fawning manager greeting Lady Jaye. Flint did look up in time to see her crossing the lobby, and he jogged over to join her.

"You know what they say about guys and big sports cars," Jaye teased as they entered the elevator.

"They like things fast and powerful."

"Right."

"You don't appreciate a work of art when you see it."

"It's an eighty-four Lamborghini Countach," she said, raising an eyebrow playfully. "I've driven one before."

"No way! What was it like?"

She gave him a wicked smile. "Personally, I think the Ferrari 512 handles better."

"You're pulling my leg," he said, but smiling enviously as she provided detailed information on the cars.

When she reached her door, he waited in the hallway until she told him he could come inside. Scanning the suite, he let out a soft whistle. "This is nice."

It was actually one of the hotel's smaller luxury suites, but she didn't tell him that, instead setting her bag down on the table, and slipping off her shoes and jacket. "I always felt if you're going to do something, you should do it right."

Lady Jaye smiled as Flint fidgeted, glancing around the room. It was clear he was fighting the urge to make a suggestive comment now that he was so close to her bedroom; he was trying so hard not to try too hard, and it was adorable.

"Do you prefer 'Dashiell', or is "Dash' okay?" she asked, quietly closing the distance between them.

"There's not much you can do to improve the name. Why?" he asked, looking startled when he turned around and found her directly in front of him.

"Because I think there's something inherently wrong with using a codename in bed," she answered, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him before he had time to react.

Her lips curled in a smile as his gym bag landed on the floor with a loud thump, but she was soon moaning as he deepened the kiss, pulling her close against his body.

"I take it you can wait for dinner," she panted when he finally broke off the kiss.

"Oh, yeah," he groaned, cupping her jaw in his hand and capturing her lips again.

When they pulled apart, she saw his lopsided grin and knew he was getting one of his corny lines ready. "Don't say anything to make me regret this," she said, surprised by how much emotion ended up in her statement.

"I won't," Flint said, brushing his hand across her cheek. "Scout's honor."

"When were you ever in _…_"

He bent down to kiss her, lifting her body easily, and her arms went around his neck as she wrapped her legs around his waist. After a few steps, he stopped and looked around.

"The bed's that way," she said, pulling away long enough to point in the right direction.

_TBC_


	11. Chapter 11

**A Book By Its Cover  
A/N: **I'm really sorry for the delay, but I had a bad reaction to some medicine and wasn't able to work on this. There's just one chapter left, and I'll get it up as soon as I can. Thanks to VR Trakowski for her beta skills, but I'm keeping any remaining typos for myself.**  
Disclaimer:** I don't think I need any more disclaimers on this story.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Lady Jaye gradually woke to the almost-forgotten sensation of high-quality linens and downy warmth. Stretching cat-like in her silky cocoon, a Cheshire smile formed as memories of the night before surfaced, and lost in her revelry, it took her a moment to realize the bed was otherwise empty.

Opening an eye, she ran a hand over the far pillow, but it had already cooled down, meaning Flint had been up for some time. She started to get out of bed, but when she recognized the sound of the television playing softly in the background, she burrowed back under the covers; if he was being considerate enough to let her sleep in, she was going to indulge for a few more minutes.

"Considerate" was definitely an accurate term. For all his eagerness, he'd treated her like the most intimately studied battlefield map in history, thoroughly charting her various bruises, scrapes and sore muscles, and then carefully planning his advances so that even at their most vigorous, she'd felt no discomfort.

Jaye probably should have been annoyed that, yet again, Flint lived up to his own bragging, but – as the recipient of said skill – she found herself very tolerant about his boasting this time. Not that she planned on stroking his ego by admitting it, but he probably didn't have any doubts given her reactions.

She hadn't had the chance to let him know he was welcome to spend the rest of their leave with her earlier, but it was an invitation she absolutely planned on extending - in a few more minutes. A half hour at the most.

Besides, it _was_ his fault she was feeling so worn out.

She had started to sink back into sleep when the comforter flew off the bed and a heavy weight landed behind her on the mattress.

"I know you're awake," he whispered in her ear.

"No, I'm not," she muttered, sliding further under the sheet. At least he wasn't feeling any morning-after awkwardness, even if he was far too chipper.

"Are you okay, Alison?" he asked. A moment later, he'd pulled the cover back far enough to rest a hand on her forehead. "Do you want me to call Doc?"

"What?" Sleepily, she rolled over enough to face him, surprised to see how serious he looked.

"It's not like you to sleep in so late. Are you feeling well?"

Levering herself up on one elbow, she read the bedside clock, let out a grunt and tried to bury herself back under the sheet. "I still remember a world where seven-thirty wasn't considered late."

"Well, we did go to bed pretty early last night," he pointed out, running his hand soothingly over her arm.

"Yeah, but it's not like we went to sleep right away. Besides, I think I have a reason to be tired," she said teasingly, but she felt his muscles tense.

"I know. You wiped out all your reserves on that mission. It's going to be a few days before you're back to normal."

"That's not what I was talking about," she said softly, touched by his concern. Grabbing his arm, she wrapped it around her and snuggled back against him. "Here, make yourself useful."

He drew her close, resting his hand over hers. "What about your medication?"

"It's just an antibiotic. My feet aren't going to fall off it I don't take it exactly eight hours after the last dose, Dash," she said reassuringly around a yawn. "Oh, you never said if it was okay to call you by that name."

"I certainly liked the way you were saying it last night," he said with a throaty chuckle.

"Well, I liked what you were doing at the time," Jaye conceded with a grin. "And you don't have to comment on that admission."

His laughter grew as he ran his lips across her cheek. "I was having fun myself. I wouldn't mind doing it again if you're interested."

"Talk to me when I wake up."

"You're awake now."

"No, I'm not. I talk in my sleep," she said, the corner of her lip curving up slightly.

"Ah, and linguists can carry out coherent conversations in their sleep," he said humorously, and Jaye let out a sigh when he started nibbling on her earlobe. "Come on, get a shower and let me take you somewhere nice for breakfast."

"Later?"

"Now."

"Why?"

"Because I'm starving," he said before nuzzling her neck.

"How can you be starving after all you ate last night?" she laughed, shifting so he had better access.

"If you remember, we worked up an appetite again after dinner."

"Hmm," she sighed, reaching up to stroke his cheek. She had to give him credit – if nothing else, his stamina had been enjoyable. "I see you found the razor. Did they leave everything you needed?"

"Yeah, how did you know?" he asked, lifting his head up to stare at her quizzically.

"I told them to leave toiletries for you when I made the reservations. Call me crazy, but I suspected you weren't going to turn me down," Jaye said, giving up on going back to sleep. Rolling over to face him, she ran a hand down his bare chest to the towel wrapped around his waist, smiling when he slid his arm under her to hold her close.

"I'm glad you asked," he said softly, kissing the top of her head. "And I'd like to take you out for some breakfast. Maybe we can come back and work up some appetite for lunch before you have to check out."

"I'm going to stay here for the rest of the leave," she said, running her fingers through his chest hair. Looking up, she smiled at him fondly, trying to keep her expectations at bay.

She'd entered this working on the assumption that all he wanted was some fun, and Jaye wasn't going to build up her hopes that it would lead to something more. If it turned out to be more than a fling, that would be great, but she was going to accept whatever happened. At the very least, it would get the sexual tension out of the way so they could become better friends – not to mention getting a very pleasurable vacation at the same time.

All she needed to do was keep herself from falling any deeper for the lunk-head in the process.

"You're welcome to stay with me if you want," she offered, playfully poking him. "If you let me catch up on my sleep."

His smile spread slowly. "I'd like that, but isn't this going to get expensive? This place can't be cheap."

"Don't worry about it," she told him as she settled into the crook of his arm. "Wake me up in a half hour or so for breakfast."

"I'm hungry now," he said, rolling her over so she was on top of him and peeling the sheet away from her. Exposing her upper body, he began to move his fingers along her flank in a slow and sensuous manner until she let out a moan. "Besides, I can't give you a proper good-morning kiss until you brush your teeth."

"Oh, smooth move, Romeo," she laughed.

"Come on. Are you going to let me take you out to eat?"

"I have a better idea," she said, stretching across him to reach the phone and dialing room service. "Yes, we need breakfast for two, with orange juice and coffee. Make it something hearty," she said, her eyes twinkling as she moved her hips against his suggestively. "Oh, and send up a roll of gauze bandages as well."

"I don't think I want to know what type of kitchen they have if you can order bandages from it," Flint said only half-jokingly as he worked the rest of the sheet away from her body.

"They'll forward the message to the front desk. If you need anything, they'll get it for you," Jaye said, pushing off of him to climb out of bed.

"Hey, where are you going?" he asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

"You're the one who wanted me to take a shower," she said, enjoying the way he stared at her nude form as she walked backwards toward the bathroom. With a wicked grin, she turned around and bent over to pick up a robe from where it had landed on the floor.

"You might want to ah, calm _down_, and get dressed before room service gets here," she called out over her shoulder, grinning to herself when she heard him plop down on the bed with a groaning laugh.

By the time she'd finished showering and dressing, room service had already left their breakfast, and Flint was fixing her morning coffee. To her surprise and delight, he made no move to rush her, and they enjoyed a leisurely meal as they scanned the newspaper, sharing interesting tidbits with one another. As they were wrapping up, a knock sounded at the door, and the hotel doctor came in to personally re-bandage her feet.

Lady Jaye explained the injuries with a simple story of a hiking trip gone awry, but Flint mischievously embellished the tale, and he rolled his eyes as the gullible older man believed his ever-wilder descriptions, even when he said she had been "hunting wabbits" in a good Elmer Fudd imitation.

His smile died when the doctor started hectoring her on how lucky she had been, detailing the damage trench foot or gangrene would have done to her. The elderly man finally left when housekeeping showed up, and Flint asked if she wanted to go for a walk in the park.

Once outside, she slipped her arm into his and nudged him gently. "I see I have a lot to teach you," she said, smiling when he looked at her curiously. "You never give more information than necessary in a cover story. You can always add details later, but you can't take them back."

A few jokes later, he started to relax and returned her smile, but he remained understatedly doting and a tad overprotective as he escorted her. Lady Jaye noted the way he was discreetly watching her gait, making sure she didn't overdue it as they crossed the park, and his behavior was sweet albeit puzzling. He directed her to a sunny bench beside a pond before her feet began to ache, purchased a bag of breadcrumbs and wrapped his arm over her shoulders as they sat and talked while watching the ducks' antics.

After she chuckled at his Donald Duck imitation when one unlucky duck kept missing the bread, he started a running commentary using the voice until she was laughing heartily, and then he leaned in to kiss her, gradually deepening it until she pulled back.

"Behave. We're in public," she chided him gently.

Flint's eyes danced with mirth. "And I thought you weren't inhibited."

"I'm not. But getting sexually active in an area where children can walk up to you is just tacky."

"Right," he said, chortling softly as he leaned back on the bench.

"I don't do tacky. Unless it's for a mission," she admitted with a shrug. "If you have any doubts about my inhibitions, I'll settle that when we get back to the hotel."

"I always thought you were classy," he said sincerely.

"Oh, I'm sure that's why you've been chasing me," Jaye laughed.

"Well, yeah," he said, surprising her. "At least part of the reason."

"Really?"

"Sure. You'll do whatever is needed for a mission without complaining, but I know I can take you somewhere nice and you'll fit in."

"You worried about where _you_ could take _me_?" she asked, thoroughly enjoying the irony of her brash lover being concerned about her social skills. "So your standards go beyond 'female' and 'breathing' to knowing which fork to use with the salad."

Flint smiled as he shrugged. "I do have standards. Mainly, I know you won't bore me."

"You better be careful. With lines like that, everyone is going to know you're familiar with the Romantics," she deadpanned.

"You know they weren't called that because they wrote about romance."

"I know, I know. _Frankenstein_ is the quintessential Romance novel."

"This is what I'm talking about. You're at least as intelligent as I am and possibly better educated. I can't think of a subject that I could talk about where you couldn't at least keep up with it. You can take care of yourself, you aren't going to freak out if you see a mouse or something like that, you care about others and are willing to risk your life to help them," he said, grinning at her expression. "And you're hotter than hell."

Lady Jaye watched him carefully for a moment, fairly amazed that something other than sex had factored into his decision to pursue her. As heartening as his admission was, she refused to read too much into it.

"That may be the nicest thing you've ever said to me," she told him honestly.

"Then I need to work on that."

"Save the lines. I'm not interested in them."

"Hey," Flint said, cupping her cheek to turn her face toward him. "I'm honest, remember? I mean it. You're _…_ not boring."

"Neither are you," she said, kissing him softly before snuggling back against his chest.

When it started to cloud up, they headed back to the hotel, but Flint pulled her into a Chinese takeout place on the way. Going over the menu, she teased him about his timid choices, and he eyed her suspiciously when she said something to the clerk in Mandarin. Once back in the suite, they spread out their feast on the table, and Jaye finally got him to try one of the spicier dishes, but she wasn't fast enough to warn him when she noticed his forkful contained an overabundance of dried chili peppers.

Laughing at his expression as sweat broke out on his face, her apology eventually ended up being very personal. Snuggling together on the floor, Flint reached up and pulled down their dishes, and they finished lunch picnic-style. She was getting ready to get up when he rolled her over, smiling wickedly as he dragged a spoonful of sweet and sour sauce down her belly and showed her there were no hard feelings.

It was early evening before she woke up again, and she grinned to find he had tucked her into bed after their last romp. As she walked to the bathroom, she noted approvingly that he'd cleaned away the remnants of their lunch and neatly folded her clothes on the dresser as well.

After freshening up, she pulled on a robe and padded into main area of the suite. The television was tuned to a race, but Flint's attention was focused on a book. When the crowd started cheering, he marked his place with his finger, looked up quickly to see what was happening and then returned to reading after watching the replay of the accident.

"Hey," she said, sitting gracefully on the sofa arm and resting a hand on his bare arm. He'd take a shower at some point, and still had a towel draped over his shoulders and one wrapped around his waist.

"Hey, yourself," he said, closing the book and slipping it between the cushions. "Did you have a nice nap?"

"Very. That bed is wonderful."

"Are you sure the bed was responsible and not the company?" he asked with a lusty grin.

"No, it was the bed," she said impishly. "The company makes waking up fun. Thanks for tucking me in."

"I didn't think the floor would be too comfortable."

"Not likely," she said, leaning over him to fish out the book, frowning as she read the title. "_Sybil_ by Benjamin Disraeli? I thought he was a prime minister."

"He also wrote a couple of novels," he said, shifting on the couch and clearing his throat. "I read when I want to wind down."

"It was probably a wild assumption on my part, but I figured a guy who spent six years studying literature likes books," she teased him gently, hoping to get him to feel comfortable sharing this side with her. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone you know how to read."

He shrugged sheepishly. "It's, _…_ people act weird when they find out."

After a long moment, she realized he wasn't going to offer any more information. "Is it any good?"

"I like it."

"Can I borrow it when you're done? About all that's left in the women's barracks are legal texts and engine manuals." Jaye handed him the book back and placed her arm around his shoulders. "You're not the only one who reads to wind down. Most of us don't pick obscure Victorian books, though."

Flint looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. "And you accuse me of having an ego. This is a classic. Just because you haven't heard of it, doesn't mean it's obscure."

"Good point," she admitted, smiling at him as she patted his chest. "But you do have an ego."

"If you say so," he replied, reaching for the remote to turn off the television.

"Are you getting bored staying here?" she asked him.

Flint's eyebrows lifted up as he gazed at her meaningfully. Reaching over, he flipped the hem of her robe back to expose more of her leg, and he started massaging her thigh. "You _have_ to be kidding."

Letting out a disbelieving huff and shaking her head, she slid off the sofa arm and straddled his lap, resting her head against her shoulder. "You're hopeless."

"Well, you kept me waiting long enough."

"Oh, and you didn't see anyone else in all that time," she joked.

"No." When she pulled back to look at him, he shrugged. "I wanted you."

"I hope it was worth the wait," Jaye said, hiding her blush by nuzzling his neck.

"Nope, not at all. That's why I can't wait for you to be ready to go again," he teased.

"You _are_ hopeless," she said fondly. "I meant were you getting bored while I rested. You never struck me as a couch potato."

He wrapped his arms around her loosely. "It's something you'll learn in time. When you get a chance to relax, you take it. It doesn't matter what you do. You need to rest, so I'll catch up on my reading and watch some TV while you do."

"And now that I'm awake?"

"We can do whatever you want. If you're still tired, we can just make out some tonight."

"Oh, my nap was very restful," she said, kissing his neck in a lazy manner and smiling when his hands started roaming over her back. "Do you want to fool around before dinner or after?"

He flashed her a lopsided grin. "Both."

Jaye stared at him for a moment, finally shaking her head. "I was right. You really are an oversexed Neanderthal."

"Don't you think 'virile' is more accurate?"

"No," she stated, giggling at his expression. "I think oversexed Neanderthal sums it up nicely."

"Come on, Al," he cajoled her, grinning as he drew her in for a kiss.

She planted her hands on his chest and pressed back. "'Al?' I know I can't get away from 'Allie', but you're not calling me 'Al'."

"Yes, I am," he said, his eyes dancing with delight. "As a caveman, I have severely restricted vocalization abilities, and I can't handle a polysyllabic name."

"Dash," she said in mock-warning.

"Yes, Al?"

"You're not calling me that."

"I think I am," he said, giving her a broad grin as he suddenly stood up and tossed her over his shoulder.

"Put me down!" Jaye laughed when he started banging his chest with his free hand as he headed toward the bed.

"Ook, ook."

"You sound like an ape!"

"Oookidy-ooky-ook?"

"Now you sound like a demented ape, you big goofball," she said, swatting his rear as she hung upside down over his shoulder. "Put me down."

He dropped her on the bed, pinning her before she could roll away from him. For all his teasing, his kisses were gently passionate and she returned them with equal fervor. Pulling back, he opened her robe and eyed her body hungrily, his breath growing ragged as took in her form. After a lingering moment, he was on her with a long, drawn out, "Oo-oook."

They spent the rest of the evening in the hotel, eating the leftovers for dinner and eventually curled up on the couch to watch movies. The discovery that Flint was a cuddler came as a bit of a shock, but she was quick to take advantage of the fact, savoring the feel of being in his arms.

When they got ready for bed, she raised an eyebrow when he climbed under the covers naked. With a teasing grin, she curled up against him and caressed his chest. "Are you a closet nudist?"

"No, but I don't have a change of clothes," he said, chuckling as her fingers ran over his ribcage. "I thought about running back to base to pick something up, but I didn't want to take a chance. With my luck, Hawk would want me for an assignment, and this is one leave I _definitely_ want to finish."

"Call the front desk and give them your sizes. They'll get something for you."

"Isn't it kind of weird to have a stranger go buy skivvies for you? You don't know what you'll end up with."

"Silk, probably."

"That doesn't sound very practical."

"Don't knock it until you try it," she said, doubting he was ready to indulge in a personal shopper.

Yawning, she rested her head against his shoulder. Her lips curled upward as he started pulling the covers away from her body, and she let out a soft laugh when he began exploring in earnest. "You _cannot_ be ready to go again."

"It hasn't been too much, has it?" he asked, his concern evident.

Jaye smiled as she ran her fingers along a faint bite mark along the base of his neck. "I didn't do that because I wanted you to stop."

"I don't want to overdue it," he said.

"Trust me, you haven't. Not yet, anyway," she said, letting out a laugh. "But I'm glad it's not a two-week leave, or I'd need a vacation afterwards."

He reached up to brush a lock of hair out of her eyes. "No, if we had that much time, I would have found a quiet tropical beach for you."

"Hmm, that sounds nice," she said, looking up to roll her eyes. "Of course, we wouldn't have made it out of the hotel."

"If you wanted to go play in the sand, we could have," he chuckled. "I wouldn't care what we did during the day as long as you spent the nights with me."

"Well, just so long as you planned the trip better than you did my retrieval," she joked, hoping to relieve whatever lingering issues he had with the mission by making light of it. Instead, he pulled back, his expression unreadable as he stared at her. "Dash, it's okay_…_"

"You don't know."

She cocked her head in confusion. "Know what?"

"No one's told you. We weren't there to retrieve you. We thought you were dead."

Lady Jaye returned his stare with her own. "What?"

"The spooks had pictures from the town square after the riot broke out. There was a picture of a woman near your contact, and it could have been you. She was the right build, the same hair color, dressed like a factory worker. There wasn't enough of a face left to confirm it, but the spooks told us it was you."

"No wonder Scarlett was in such a good mood," she said, trying to process the information. It also explained why everyone was so glad to see her when she got back to base.

_Not to mention Flint's reaction. _

"She took the news pretty hard," he said in a quiet voice. "We all did."

"My parents?" she exclaimed, sitting up suddenly. She'd never told them what type of work she did, not wanting to worry them. They'd be totally unprepared to find out she'd been killed on a mission.

"Hawk didn't tell them," Flint assured her. "He was going to wait until, until we got back."

"Thank God," Jaye whispered, grateful they'd been spared that agony. "Got back from what?"

"We were there to see if we could get your body," he said in a subdued tone.

"What?" She knew the team's motto was they never left anyone behind, but she couldn't imagine how they planned to find her body in the chaos left by the mass shooting.

"I wasn't going to leave you there. I told the spooks to release some pictures of the town square and the mass grave where they buried the bodies. The Soviets said it was an explosion at the factory, but they had to let the UN in to investigate to keep up the illusion. We knew they'd transfer the remains from the mass grave before the inspectors got there, and we planned to get your body then."

He had dropped his head, but not before she caught the haunted look in his eyes. She could only imagine the horror of going through a mass grave of decaying bodies, trying to find one mutilated corpse in the pile. But he and the others had been willing to risk their lives to do it, and she couldn't find the words to express her gratitude.

"My God," she whispered.

"It was chance we were even at the safe house. Breaker wanted to see if he could eavesdrop on the terrorists' conversations to see if he could find out if they got the plans. Then he and Scarlett found you staggering around the bog, and we couldn't believe it. But you were so far gone, and we didn't have any supplies to treat hypothermia. It was hours before you started to wake up. We didn't think you were going to make it."

"I'm glad you were there," Lady Jaye simply told him, reaching out to touch his face, and he leaned into her hand. "Thank you."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, they held each other tightly until he eventually lowered her unto the bed, tenderly stroking her back until she fell asleep.

_TBC_


	12. Chapter 12

**A Book By Its Cover  
A/N: **Wow, I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to offer their support and encouragement with this story. It made writing for the fandom fun. I'm sorry it took so long to get it all finished, but thanks to those of you who stuck with it. Also, I know I made a big continuity error early on in the story, and when I get a chance, I'll go back and fix it.

Finally, a hearty thank you to VR Trakowski for all her help.

**Disclaimer: **I've run out of them.**  
Chapter 12**

* * *

On the last night of their leave, Lady Jaye was packing when Flint moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and running his lips along her shoulder. Pushing aside the strap of her camisole, he paused and looked up at her quizzically, and she smiled in response.

She had to give Flint credit; for all his hounding her for sex in the past, he wasn't being aggressive – well, too aggressive – now that she was willing. He just let her know when he was ready, leaving the decision of when to sleep together up to her.

Of course, he was turning out to be as horny as the brass section of the Boston Pops, so it was pretty much a constant state of letting her know he was ready, but he wasn't pressuring her, and that made all the difference.

Not that she minded indulging him – it was the most enjoyable vacation she'd had since joining the military. And it wasn't just the physical aspect of it. The weather had turned dreary, so they'd spent most of the last two days inside the hotel suite, but the isolation had never grown boring.

And while the sex _had_ been wonderful, she wasn't sure her plan to relieve the tension between them had worked out that well. If anything, she wanted him more now; Flint had proven to be a delight to be with – charming, polite and witty – and, so far, he'd managed to refrain from pointing out that he had told her so multiple times in the past.

She'd given up any pretense that she wasn't falling for the big goofball, especially after learning he'd planned the mission to retrieve her body. He hadn't mentioned it again, in fact, he'd been extra jaunty the next morning, going out of his way to keep things on a light note. She never figured out if he was being so cheerful for her benefit or his own, but his reaction touched her deeply.

Lady Jaye kept her expectations grounded, though. For all his concern, he'd kept his emotional distance, leaving her still questioning just what exactly he wanted from their relationship. Turning around, she rested her arms around his neck, regarding him warmly. She'd deal with the emotional consequences later; for now, she was going to make the most of the situation, and ensure that he enjoyed whatever time they had together as well.

"I figured we'd turn in early tonight," she told him, smiling at his wolfish grin.

"Sounds good to me."

When he started necking her, she playfully pushed him away. "After dinner."

Chuckling into her skin, he stopped his kisses and pulled back with a smirk, fingering the strap of her camisole. "Silk?"

"Hmm."

"You have expensive tastes."

"I have _good_ taste," she corrected softly.

Flint raised an eyebrow in challenge, holding out his hands to indicate the suite. "Expensive. Even your half of this is going to be high."

"What do you mean 'my half?' You're my guest," Jaye said, smiling at him. "I don't expect you pay anything."

"I can't let you pay for this by yourself."

"Rein in your ego, Dash, a woman is treating you," she teased.

"It doesn't have anything to do with my ego, and I don't have any troubles with a woman paying for something," he said, pulling her closer. "But this is too much."

"No, it's not. Besides, I owe you."

For a fleeting moment, she thought a look of pain crossed his eyes. "Is that why you're doing this? Because you think you have to pay me back for that mission?"

"It's not why I'm sleeping with you," she told him, refusing to hope that his reaction went beyond wounded pride. "But it's part of the reason why I did it in such a nice location. I wanted to spend the time with you, and I enjoy a bit of luxury on occasion," she added when he didn't seem convinced.

"A bit?" he snorted.

Lady Jaye leaned up to rub her cheek against his and then moved to gently nibble his earlobe. "If it bothers you that much, you can take me out for dinner tonight. Of course, that means we won't turn in as early," she whispered as she pressed against him.

Flint let out a low groan and drew her tight against his body. "You definitely have an evil streak, do you know that?"

"Of course. I worked hard to perfect it," she said, taking his hand and leading him toward the bed. "I guess we'll call room service later."

Early the next morning, they finished their packing and walked hand-in-hand to the elevator. Once inside, he rubbed the back of his head and gave her a sheepish look. "There were some errands I wanted to run before heading back to base, but I got distracted earlier. Are you okay to get back by yourself?"

She hid her surprise and answered simply, "I think I can find my way."

They settled into an awkward silence, but once in the lobby, he followed her as she went to the front desk. Flint made a strangled grunt when he noticed the total on the bill while she was signing for it.

"I'll write you a check for my half when we get back to base," he said. "I'll have to postdate it until next payday."

"We're not going over this again, are we, Dash? You're my guest," she said, putting her hand on his chest when he started to complain. "Do you remember me telling you I got extra spending money from my investments? It's more than our combined salaries."

He blinked slowly. "The investments?"

"What I earn from the investments," Lady Jaye said, privately glad she hadn't told him just how much more when he gaped at her.

"Oh," he said, recovering quickly. "Still_…_"

Rolling her shoulders, she went in for the kill. "I don't know that I'll even be billed. My mother's family owns the controlling share in the hotel. It's been a long time since I stayed, so they may just comp my bill."

Flint goggled at her as they walked across the lobby. "Isn't this part of a chain of hotels across the US?"

"North America and Europe."

"Oh," he repeated, quiet again for a moment. It was clear he was working out the implications of her admission, and she had no doubt that he now had some inkling about the extent of her family's wealth.

"Don't think about asking me why I joined the military," she said, anticipating the question everyone always seemed to ask when finding out about her financial situation.

"I think it's great. You're doing something to help others, and you don't even need to work. There're probably not too many people who'd pick something so difficult," he said, sounding sincere. "So, the 'Lady' in your codename_…_"

"Someone at the Pentagon thinks he has a sense of humor," she said shortly.

His lips twitched as he nodded to the doorman to hail her a cab. "That's never a good thing."

"No, it's not," she agreed. "Will you stop worrying about the bill now?"

"Damn," he swore, letting out a long huff of breath. "I feel cheap for just getting Chinese for lunch."

"Why?" she asked sincerely, giving him a warm smile. "I love Chinese. It's always a good choice as far as I'm concerned."

He gave a half-hearted shrug. "Still, I wish you would have let me take you out for a nice dinner. Not that it would have come close to that," he said in an awestruck voice.

Lady Jaye resisted the urge to point out she'd be free on other nights, instead giving him a parting peck on the cheek. "I had a good time. I'm glad you stayed. If you ever need someone to talk to, grab me a cup of coffee and I'll be there for you."

Flint cocked his head, watching her curiously as he helped her into a cab. "I'll remember that," he said, and she wasn't sure if he was amused or disappointed.

Once back at base, she quickly checked in with Beach Head to schedule a time to develop an exercise regime to follow until she was cleared for regular PT, dropped off her things and changed into her BDUs, and settled in for an early breakfast. She was reviewing the situation reports from the previous days to see what had happened while she was gone when the others started arriving in the mess hall.

Scarlett sat down across the table from her, looking refreshed and recharged.

"I'm going to guess you and Snakes had a good leave."

"Hmm, we got in some great sword work."

"Somehow, I don't think that's an euphemism you're using," Lady Jaye chuckled.

"Oh, there was some of that, too," Scarlett admitted as a blush climbed up her cheeks. "What about you? Did you catch up on your sleep?"

"I spent plenty of time in bed," she answered with a straight face, setting down her mug and turning serious. "I understand you guys went looking to bring my body back. Thanks."

"I don't want to make a habit of that," the redhead stated firmly before giving her a friendly smile.

"Deal."

They were joking lightly when a sudden ruckus caused them to look up. Flint had entered the mess hall and was the center of attention. If there was one area where the macho nature of the military remained blatantly obvious, it was sex. Flint wasn't exactly strutting, but he wore a smirk that was so self-satisfied, a neon sign flashing "I got lucky" would have been less obvious, and the guys were grilling him for details.

Jaye watched him for a moment, silently swearing when she noticed a bite mark on his neck was clearly visible. She didn't have any regrets about sleeping with him, nor was she ashamed about it, but she never considered that their romp was going to be the fodder for the team gossip mill before breakfast was even over.

"Looks like he had fun," Scarlett noted.

"I suppose."

Any unsettled feelings Lady Jaye had were worth it in exchange for watching her friend's rapidly morphing expression. Scarlett stared at her for moment before snapping her head toward Flint and back repeatedly. Suspicion, then doubt crossed the redhead's features, quickly replaced by disbelief and finally settling into something that resembled amused horror.

Jaye confirmed her suspicions with a gentle roll of her shoulders.

After a beat, Scarlett narrowed her eyes, leaning forward to speak in a low voice. "Just how drunk did he get you?"

"He didn't." She gave a half-smile. "It was my idea."

"Did you tell the doctors that you hit your head during the riot?"

Lady Jaye set down her coffee mug and let out a sigh. "The tension between us was getting _…_ distracting. It was either sleep with Flint or kill him, and that seemed so déclassé after all the trouble you guys went to saving my life," she said nonchalantly.

Scarlett watched her carefully, and Jaye wondered if her perceptive friend was buying her response. "You don't need to thank Snake Eyes and me the same way," the martial artist finally said dryly.

"Damn, now I'll have to think of something else," she deadpanned so realistically that Scarlett did a quick double-take.

"You're scary," she muttered good-naturedly, pausing indecisively for a moment before asking, "Did your plan work?"

"I don't know. I may have created a monster," Lady Jaye said.

Scarlett glanced back at Flint briefly before picking up her coffee mug. "We don't have any pitchforks, but I'm sure Snakes and I can find something suitably pointy if you'll handle the torches."

She stared her friend for a moment, uncertain if she was joking or not. Turning towards Flint, a small smile formed as she finally paid attention to the conversation going on around him. He was clearly enjoying the attention, and he was entirely too smug, but the knucklehead was actually being somewhat tactful. "I don't think that's going to be necessary."

"Hey, Flint, you didn't hang around for the football game!" Shipwreck called out as the warrant officer tried to navigate his way through the line.

"It was too nice to stay cooped up with you guys."

"But you never came back to base," the sailor continued in a lewd tone.

"They call it 'leave' for a reason – you're supposed to go away."

"Do you have a number for me?" Ace asked from across the room.

"Do I look like the Yellow Pages?"

"Well, I'll be damned. He really is a gentleman," Scarlett said, making no attempt to hide her disbelief. Setting down her mug, she bobbed her head. "Or he's smart enough not to say anything where you'd overhear him."

Jaye chuckled, raising her mug in agreement. "Good point."

After watching more of Flint's evasive answers, Scarlett gave her a reserved look. "It's your life. So, how did you train him so well in such a short time?"

"I didn't have to," she said, suddenly apprehensive when the redhead broke out in a wide grin.

"Good morning, ladies," Gung Ho said as he settled into the chair next to Lady Jaye, sliding it closer to her side so their arms were touching.

"Morning," Scarlett said as she grinned in anticipation.

"Morning," Jaye said, giving the martial artist a warning glare and leaning away from the crowding Cajun.

A sudden round of laughter caused all three of them to look in Flint's direction, and Gung Ho grunted as he demolished a slice of toast.

"Some ego he has, eh? You should have seen in him in the locker room after PT. He was walking around with his shirt off so everyone could see the scratches and bites. He found him some hellcat, that's for sure."

"A hellcat? I really didn't need to know that," Scarlett mumbled as she closed her eyes, and Jaye kept her expression neutral; she didn't think she'd been _that_ bad.

"Remember how stories get blown out of proportion around here," Lady Jaye signed clandestinely, flashing her an innocent smile when Scarlett tilted her head doubtfully.

Unaware of their conversation, Gung Ho shrugged as he started shoveling eggs into his mouth and resting his free arm across the back of Lady Jaye's chair. "Some guys, they gotta brag. Makes you wonder what they're hiding. A confident man doesn't need to do that, he'll treat a _lady_ right."

"Is that so?" Scarlett said, ignoring Jaye's intensified glare. "And I guess you're the type of guy how knows how to treat a gal?"

"I never had no complaints," he said, nodding to Flint when he walked over to their table.

"Move it," the warrant officer told him.

"Sit over there. You had fun with your _catin_, why can't you let someone else have a shot?" Gung Ho joked, pointing to the empty seat beside Scarlett and smiling at Lady Jaye.

"Because she's mine," Flint answered shortly, and silence spread out around the mess hall as people turned to stare.

Lady Jaye wasn't sure which of them she planned on killing first, but she gave Scarlett a pointed look before turning to the burly Marine who was sitting with his mouth open. "I don't bite or scratch in public," she said sweetly.

It was the only time she'd ever seen the Cajun look embarrassed, and Gung Ho choked down his food hurriedly and picked up his tray. "_Mo chagren_."

A quick scan around the room showed almost everyone watching them, and she found their expressions somewhat amusing; almost all the guys looked like they had heard someone talking dirty about their sister, all the while trying to act like they hadn't taken part in the conversation.

Ignoring Scarlett's poor attempts not to laugh, she faced Flint. His possessiveness was _not_ an endearing quality, but she was more staggered by his complete lack of discretion. True, subtle wasn't his style, but she never expected the big oaf to announce to the entire team that _…_

_That they were together._

_Oh._

_Oh._

"So, you're his _catin_?" the redhead teased, bringing Lady Jaye's attention back to the conversation.

Flint flashed his lopsided grin as he sat down. "I think so. I'm not sure what it means."

"It damn well better mean something different in Cajun than it does in French," Jaye finally growled, deciding they'd have a little chat about his jealousy later. At least the others had stopped staring at them, although she had no doubt they were the subject of the various whispered conversations.

He smiled at her as he handed her a glass of milk. "Have you checked in with Doc yet?"

"I have an appointment later this morning. It shouldn't be too long before I'm cleared," she said, declining his offer of toast; it was hard to stay mad at the lug-head when he was being so kind.

"Hawk has some sort of project for you until you're back on regular duty," he said, turning to Scarlett and asking about her leave.

Lady Jaye ignored both Scarlett's amused looks and Flint's smug attitude as they chatted, returning to scanning the reports. A sudden silence caused them to look up, and they spotted Duke making a beeline to them. The guys at the nearby tables shifted nervously; they'd been surprised by Flint's admission, and everyone knew they were violating frat regulations, but it seemed no one wanted them to get into trouble.

"Well, there's our little half-drowned swamp rat," Duke said as he leaned against the table beside Flint.

"That doesn't exactly roll off the tongue," Scarlett quipped. "Maybe we should just start calling her 'Rat.'"

"People'll confuse me with Tunnel Rat," she shot back.

"Not likely," Flint said, and the martial artist rolled her eyes at his obvious sexual undertone.

The top sergeant proceeded to ask Jaye some questions about how she was feeling, and gradually the others returned to their conversations when it was clear the pair weren't in trouble.

"When you get done with Doc, come over to the office. We have some training spots available, and we need you to compile a list of people who qualify. Then Hawk wants a report on the mission team assignments with recommendations for better allocation of personnel."

"Ah, the real reason I made the team," Lady Jaye joked. "You needed a glorified secretary."

"Well, one who knows how to handle things covertly," he said, whacking the back of Flint's head with a manila folder. "That's something you should get her to teach you."

Scarlett let out a humorous snort. "Good luck with that."

"Don't worry about it," Flint laughed as he straightened his beret.

"Hey, if you want to ruin your career, that's your business, but when it affects one of the enlisted members, it's my job to worry about it," Duke said, turning serious. "Hawk has enough to deal with without having to worry about what two of his soldiers are doing in their free time. Plausible deniability only goes so far; if he has to know, you'll both wish you were still stuck in that bog."

"I told you it's not going to be a problem. The only people here are on the team, and none of them are going to raise a stink over us. If anyone outside the team ever finds out and has a problem with it, then I'll take responsibility," he answered just as soberly, ignoring the numerous impressed and approving looks directed his way.

"So, did you get some rest on your leave?" Duke finally asked her.

Lady Jaye smiled to herself; Flint was going to be insufferable later, but he was being so conscientious and polite. It was the least she could do for him. "I hardly got out of bed at all the past four days," she said, her tone making it clear she wasn't talking about sleep.

Her voice carried to the neighboring tables, and a fresh round of gossip quickly made its way across the mess hall. Flint's chest swelled as he faced Duke, grinning proudly. The top sergeant let out a grunt and got off the table to leave.

Scarlett winced as she set her coffee mug down. "I didn't need details," she said, waving her hands. "I don't _want_ details. I'm going to go find Snakes and beat some mental images out of my mind."

It didn't take her long to find the mute ninja, and she quickly yanked his arm to pull him out of the mess hall. From the way her shoulders moved, Jaye guessed she was signing what had happened to Snake Eyes, and he turned around once to stare at her before being led out of the room.

While they were alone at the table, too many people came over to make some sort of joke, and Jaye went back to reading the reports. After Flint finished breakfast, he escorted her across base to the infirmary, and she finally gazed at him when they were alone.

"I'm yours?"

"I told you I wasn't looking for a one-night stand," he said with a grin.

"I'm _yours_?" she repeated meaningfully, but he just shrugged.

"I didn't want Gung Ho bothering you."

"He wasn't bothering me," she said, realizing his jealousy was going to be an on-going battle. Rolling her shoulders, she turned to him inquiringly. "Did you get all your errands run?"

"Yeah," he said, digging in the cargo pocket of his BDUs and pulling out a paper bag. "I got these for you."

She took the bag with a curious look, smiling when she pulled out a small stack of paperback novels.

"I wasn't sure what type of book you like, so I picked up a selection. Not that the PX had a lot of choices," he said. "When you're done, we can grab some coffee and discuss them if you want."

"Oh, I _want_," she said mischievously.

He chuckled for a moment before pausing near the motor pool. "I have to run down to McGuire to pick up a shipment of captured Cobra weapons. I'm not sure I'll be back in time for dinner."

"Don't worry about it," she told him. "I do understand the demands of the job."

"Well, I'll definitely be back in time for our mission tonight."

"Our mission?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We need to reconnoiter," Flint said jokingly. "Given Scarlett's reaction, I don't think she'd appreciate our, uh, 'meeting' in the women's barracks."

"Not likely," she agreed. "Are you thinking about the storage building?"

"No, too many people use that. I have some ideas, though."

They were interrupted by Crankcase yelling, "You're the man!" from inside the Mauler, causing Cover Girl to look up from her tank. Spotting them, her grin was clear as she started climbing down.

"Oh, I think I'm going to be interrogated later," Lady Jaye laughed.

Flint gave her a questioning look. "You didn't have to say anything back there. I know you think I brag too much, but I don't, not that way, I mean I wouldn't about you."

"I guess it won't kill me to boost your ego on occasion," she said, her lips turning up slightly. "And you were being so polite."

"Hey," he said, turning to face her and taking her hand. "I promised that you wouldn't regret hooking up with me. I keep my promises. Damn, I gotta run. I'll see you tonight."

"Bye," she said quietly.

Flint gave her a parting wave and jogged over to join the rest of his team by the jeeps. Heading over to the infirmary, a slow smiled formed. Maybe, just maybe, they had some sort of future after all.

_**The End**_

_**

* * *

**_

**A/N II: **Catin means 'sweetheart' in Cajun, but it's closer to 'whore' in the original French. Mo chagren means 'I'm sorry.'


End file.
